The Unwilling Participant
by ManMadeofLasers
Summary: Just because Harry has to participate in the Triwizard Tournament doesn't mean he has to try, does it? Starts summer before fourth year, follow events of GoF.
1. Prologue:Big trouble in Little Hangelton

Authors Notes: Hey all, this is my first fic I've ever written. I put a lot of work into it, so I hope y'all find it decent. I've got the whole thing written and will be uploading a new chapter every week if I can. Shoot me a message or review if you have any questions or comments at any time. Also, I don't own Harry Potter in any way, I'm just taking the universe out for a spin.

* * *

Prologue

The village itself was unremarkable. There were a hundred dozen others sprinkled across all of old Albion with the same sleepy atmosphere. Almost the same people gathered nightly in almost the same pub which was in almost the same state of disrepair, and all spoke of the same things. Times were getting dark. Things weren't necessarily _bad_, but they'd all be damned if things weren't heading there. No one knew why, but they all speculated nonetheless. It's what people do while in decrepit pubs located in quiet towns in England. It was truly more of a British tradition than tea, though no god fearing Englishman would never admit it.

In this quiet village, a village called Little Hangleton, there was one thing radically different from the rest. In this village there were four men and a snake in a house on a hill and they, with one exception, were plotting to _make_ things go bad. They were finding a way to make the magical and mundane worlds their very own sordid playground, and whether from fanaticism or fear, their plans each headed in the same direction and all wrapped closely around a small boy sleeping restlessly in a small bedroom nearly 200 miles away.

The exception was woken from his slumber by a strange feeling he had not had in many years. He woke feeling a change in the manor house he had cared for nearly his entire life. He may not have been a magical, but some magic transcends wizard's bounds. Some magic can bind an old man to the fallen house he served regardless of his status, and that magic told this old man that someone was in the manor, and that they shouldn't be.

He roused his admittedly old bones, and put the kettle on. He knew it would be safe on a low heat while he scared off whichever damn teenager was bold enough to actually enter the house instead of throwing rocks at its windows. Then he took a rusted key from its place next to the door and he set off with his cane to do his duty.

He quietly unlocked and opened the back door of the manor (he knew his work; despite looking rusted, every hinge in the manor was well oiled and taken care of) and avoiding the weak spot in the floor next to the bureau in the hallway, he made his quiet way upstairs towards the flickering light of a fire and the not-quite-silent voices near it.

What the old man did not mark in his movement towards what he thought were some damn ruffians starting a fire, was the even quieter passage of a four and a half meter long snake behind him.

The voices belonging to the three men upstairs continued their plotting.

"Jorkins was a very fortunate find, again the foolishness of these half-bloods astounds me. Having a holiday in Albania. Even I considered other places, weak as I was," said a small voice from a large wing backed chair facing the fire.

"We eliminate them for a reason, my lord," came the response, thought this voice left one part of his response below his breath, "not _just_ for the sport of it."

"Wormtail!" the voice from the chair called, "Nagini returns, milk her immediately, worm." Despite the declaration there was almost no malice in it. The voice seemed to say, between the lines, that its target just wasn't worth malice. The scurrying behavior of the fat man who responded really seemed to agree.

"I am tired from the journey. We must stay here," the small voice said with an air of finality.

"W-w-with the muggles, lord? Must we?" the shaking voice of the fat man said as he gathered the bottles and the cauldron he would need at the snake's return.

"Do not question me," the small voice said with an edge, "Our continued movement would be beyond foolish. With the World Cup coming up for the useless masses, that foolish thing they call a ministry will be more active than ever. We must take care to not even take too many of those muggle cattle around us for fear the ministry turns it's eye here. My connection to this place is not as forgotten as I would like, and even one auror would take our plans back months. We cannot afford a mistake so you will _not_ make one, Wormtail."

The silence following this statement made the third man in the room stand straighter. His stood highest in his master's esteem, and he would personally see to the distraction of the ministry. There would be no errors. He would follow the plan, his master would rise, and he would be there at his side. Nothing else was acceptable.

"W-we could use another, master. _He_ is well protected, we do not yet even know all of the things in our w-w-way," The fat man seemed to almost lose his nerve to speak here, but his hesitation met only deadly silence so he quickly added, "m-my lord."

The small voice dripped with poorly concealed disgust and the threat of violence, "Wormtail, you will play your part and you will do as I say, or your death will last years. You are mine and there is no force on this plane of existence that would stop me from making you suffer. There will be no discussion."

The old caretaker approached as quietly as he could, blessedly not hearing a word of the death he approached. The snake approached as quietly as she dared, her master called out to her after all, and the men upstairs waited for the both of them.

* * *

As the old man took care to avoid the creaking step, third from the top at the final landing, he saw three shadows on the wall, a chair, a fat man making continuous sudden jerking movements and a man who stood still at what could easily be mistaken for a military precision parade rest.

The old man paused at these three shadows. The chair must have had a small man in it. The second shadow was fat and short, but too tall to be one of the village boys who made the old caretaker's life hell. The fat man couldn't seem to stay still, he seemed to be jerking back and forth like someone on the drugs he had heard about at the town pub. No one really talked to the old caretaker, but he still heard things.

The last shadow was the most threatening, it was thin and tall, but what made it the worst was it was too still. It held itself like the soldiers he had seen in his youth. Even from the hall he could feel the man who cast the shadow practically radiate some kind of fanaticism. This was a terrifying man with a mission.

The old man may have never gone to school; he may not have been smart. He may have grown up taking care of the manor, knowing more about its lands than any sums or words, but he could tell something was amiss here. Men did not break into homes and light fires in fireplaces. They stole and sometimes (he shook remembering the manor's old master and how he had been blamed) killed, but they did not just stand around a fire.

Interrupting the Caretaker's ruminations, the snake decided the old man was close enough to her master. It no longer mattered if he knew of her presence, so she went over the squeaking step third from the top, and moved gracefully as only a snake can into the room with the fire, silently showing her master the meat that waited on the stairs as she curled round the base of the wing backed chair.

A hissing sound came from the room, knocking the man free from his fear induced paralysis after seeing a quarter-tonne snake slip by him and into the room. Another hissing, this one from a small high voice that was unmistakably that of a man met it, then the old man heard from the room, "My most faithful servant, Nagini reports an old muggle outside the door, do give him my regards."

The old man should have run at this point. His left knee may keep him up at night after all of his 70 years caring for the manor, but he knew his life was worth more than the pain vaulting the handrail and getting away would cost him. He had no love for the police (he shuddered again at the thought of what happened to the last master of the manor) but he knew when he was out of his depth. He was frozen by the word though, muggle.

That one second of hesitation cost him his life as the tall man met his shadow at the wall and a green light raced to the old caretaker.

200 miles away a small boy of 14 years cried out in his sleep, prompting his uncle to slam the wall between their rooms and yell for silence. The boy had no appreciation of the irony in yelling for silence as he woke with a start and the scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his head bled just a little onto his forehead.


	2. Chapter 1: A Non-Standard Summer

Chapter 1

Harry woke with a start. His awareness of his scar was brought immediately to the front of his mind as it flared in pain, and his uncle beat on the wall between their rooms demanding peace from the whimpers of pain that had escaped him as he woke.

He never fully understood what was going on with his scar. It hurt, it didn't hurt, it bled, it didn't bleed, whatever it did, it was as though it refused to let him believe for a minute that he was anything but what his uncle had always claimed: a freak.

He couldn't see more than a foot or so in front of himself with any clarity, but he didn't need his glasses to recognize that fact that his scar was leaking his life blood down his forehead again. As was his custom at this point, he wiped it off with his finger. Leaning over the side of his bed and removing the loose floorboard with his other hand, he used the blood on his finger to add another tally to the growing number of times he had woken to the same pain and anger that had seemed to follow him all summer long.

After he finished and returned his (morbid, even by his standards) reminder of what could only be the rise of Voldemort to the floor, he leaned back into his bed and paused to think for a moment. A voice from the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his bushy haired friend said he should be telling someone about this. His response was to tell the voice to shove it.

After his one glorious hour of believing he didn't have to return to this prison at the end of the last year, he had given up almost any hope of things getting better or changing. Ten years of abuse followed by three years of nearly dying and being forced into angering and surprisingly dangerous classes were enough, he figured, to drive anyone spare.

Help, he had further resolved, was not coming from the outside. That was why he had made his own way so far this summer. Telling his... he refused to say family or even relatives... housemates that the dangerous man who had been on the telly for nearly the whole year was his godfather and loved him had been a stretch at first. He knew Vernon wouldn't believe him, which is why when Sirius' first letter arrived on the back of what could only be a macaw parrot (he remembered the name from the educational programs he used to sneak watching when they thought he was in his cupboard as a child) he brought it to their attention. There were only so many men named Sirius Black, and he had mail inquiring after his health from one. That shut the Dursleys up.

Vernon had been paying attention to the news that year, it seemed, as he had immediately turned white and sent Harry to his room for a family conference. It turned out that Fudge's ham fisted way of dealing with the escaped criminal had been to turn the media machine amongst the muggles to eleven, making everyone believe that being a raving psychotic was the least of Sirius' talents. Vernon believed in the news and the whole bunch of them had left Harry to his own devices the whole summer so far, and seemed like he might leave him alone for the whole time.

Harry suspected that being tired was the only reason his uncle had even yelled for quiet, just now. He had even been fed this summer, something which had rubbed Dudley the wrong way all summer long. He had finally made baby whale status, and Smeltings had evidently been no longer able to give him new uniforms as they no longer stocked anything in a size that could even be altered to fit him.

Harry had taken the greatest pleasure in the fact that he finally had more on his plate at the table than Dudley did.

But outside how this condition had improved, it largely remained the same for him. The merest hint of what he did in his room sent his uncle out of whatever room they were in with a face so purple Harry suspected he should have been working at an art company to provide inspiration for new colors rather than Grunnings.

He found that he didn't really have it in him to tell anyone of the vision he had or of the pain and blood, or of the fact that it had been happening more and more all summer long. He found that after all the time he had spent here at Chateau Dursley, only his actions had ever helped him, and he had to threaten someone with something that wasn't even the whole truth to do it.

He didn't know what that said about him, but he knew the result of it was that he had enough to eat outside of a Hogwarts feast for once in his life. Having reached this, well he guessed if you squinted at it from pretty far away you could mistake it for a conclusion, he decided to just go back to sleep.

It was a long time in coming, and like most of the other times he had added a bloody tally to the board beneath his bed, it was filled with nightmares, but it was what it was and Harry found that he didn't much care.

* * *

Harry's whole summer had progressed in a very monotonous way, one day being much the same as another, especially given the Dursley's reaction to his godfather based threats. The arrival of a different brightly colored tropical bird every week or so was enough to drive his guardians mad, and served to increase the extent to which they ignored him.

These birds often found Harry studying though. Without any other thing of any significance to do, and without hours of near backbreaking labor, Harry fell back on his books which he had finally been allowed to keep out of his old cupboard.

Inside of a week Harry was bored enough to start on his transfiguration essay, which despite being difficult seemed to make the most sense. As he found it, the difficulty of the transfiguration was based almost entirely on the way you mentally constructed the problem. The more parallels you could draw mentally between the hedgehog and the pincushion, the easier it was for the magic you worked with to make the transition between the two. His fourth hour staring at the pages of his book brought forth this conclusion, and with it firmly in place he dealt with the rest of the assignment with ease.

Charms quickly followed, falling to his intense concentration on his only recourse from boredom in a matter of hours. Potions, despite its complications and overall, well, dickishness, also fell before his academic might the next day. History of Magic took him longer, but that was due to the heat lulling him to sleep between tales of Ulric the Un-Holy sacking the town that would later become Hogsmeade and exactly how the goblins of Gringotts had come together follow the final rebellion of the 1780s.

His dreams during the three day war he waged against History of Magic went from fun (goblins playing quidditch in full wizard robes with him) to worrisome (Dobby and himself playing strip poker with Neckwringer, chief of the goblins of Gringotts during its formation). He did claim victory over the papers and facts of Binns, and with his lust for academic violence thus sated, he decided he needed something new to read.

Harry's friends had been sending him mail again, Ron's largely quidditch related and Hermione's largely being reminders to do his summer homework. On his birthday, Hagrid had been kind enough to send him a gift of a fanged wallet which, while he didn't know how to use it without getting a pair of fantastic puncture wounds, still struck him as better than a book about the Chudley Cannons and a homework planner and sugar free candies.

Dumbledore had sent him nothing, on reflection it wasn't crazy that he had done so, but it still rubbed him the wrong way that the man who had sent him to live here in the first place didn't even have it in him to send him a warm wish for his birthday. Sirius had sent a wish for a happy birthday, but in all honesty Harry couldn't shake a small part of himself that was angry Sirius had not been there for him when Hagrid had moved him to Privet Drive. He knew that sentiment was stupid, but he couldn't help himself from being peeved that he hadn't taken his duties as a godfather a little more seriously than his desire for revenge.

Harry's correspondence with Sirius was good for him, though. Sirius decided to not say anything to give away his location in the letters, but that decision did not preclude him from telling Harry a lot about his parents and their friends. Sirius told Harry small anecdotes about parts of the castle and his grandfather Charlus. He also mentioned the Longbottoms, which surprised Harry. He had never known they had been the next in line after Sirius himself to take care of Harry, and Harry wondered why he had never heard more of them. He knew Neville lived with his grandmother, but he certainly had never mentioned his folks. Sirius in a later letter mentioned exactly why, and Harry was nearly ill reading about it.

Having one's parents tortured into insanity was worse, he decided, than never knowing them. Failing all else in Harry's life, he knew his parents were beyond suffering. Having your parents still be alive but unable to even recognize you was much, much worse. Sirius's comments on what the death eaters who had done it said at night in the darkest hours in Azkaban didn't help anything.

Harry never knew he and Neville could have been connected so closely in a world without old Voldy, and his mum being Harry's godmother made them... god-brothers? He couldn't quantify it, but he knew for damn sure that he would try to make Neville a lot more than a passing acquaintance. They were almost family, separated by the dark work of a group of fanatics, and Harry pledged then and there that group would not separate the two of them now.

There had only been one interruption to this pattern of daily boredom based study and letters over the whole summer, and it had surprisingly been the Masons again. In the second week of Harry's 'break' in the Dursley house, Dudley was finally returning from Smeltings, and Vernon had managed to down play the 'freakishness' of the Mason's last visit, back when Dobby had been trying to save him. Harry couldn't imagine how Vernon found the tact to convince them to come by again, but there it was he supposed.

Vernon had approached him several days before and had, in a surprisingly respectful manner, told him to count on buggering off for the whole day before and after their visit. Just in case he said. Harry privately agreed that with his luck things would go sideways again should someone come over and he would likely just be expelled instead of warned this time. To that end he took off one night with a pocket full of galleons and rode the Knight Bus to Charing Cross and the Leaky cauldron.

Tom had been gracious enough to put him up for the duration Vernon needed him out of his hair, and since this glorious visit and chance at a contract for Vernon had come almost as soon as Dudley had arrived home, Harry figured that he might as well take his chance here to grab some things from Diagon Alley to keep him from crawling up the walls the whole summer long.

Flying was right out, and most of the other ways he could think of amusing himself required either overt magic use or another person. Really that left him books, which while being entirely Hermione's thing, wasn't really what he would consider a fun summer. Still, as he had found so often in his life, beggars cannot be choosers. So he went to Flourish and Blotts looking for something interesting to keep up the trend of study and post he had established.

He left the Leaky Cauldron wearing his school robes and a vivid orange Cannon's knit hat Ron had gifted to him at some point. His scar thus covered, he entered the store and immediately began looking around for both something he could do without his relatives getting on his case, and something that wouldn't prompt Hopkirk from the Underage Magic office to send him any more love mail.

He ended up perusing most of his core subjects for hoggy old Hogwarts, but he was almost entirely unable to find anything of use to him for back at the Dursley's. After snagging some high end transfiguration books that talked about the transfiguration of edibles and about the conjuration of objects (something that had always seemed so sci-fi to him that he was eager to try it when he got back to school) he decided to give up for the day and headed to the counter.

By the time he had his books place up on the counter, the man behind it had placed him from his time the previous summer spent on the alley.

"Mr. Potter, sir! It's an honor to have you back here, and it's good to see you in one piece again after all that nastiness with Black," the man said in a voice that carried through the shop.

From all around Harry people looked up and tried to find who was talking to whom. Harry hurriedly put his finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence and hissed out in a whisper, "Please keep it down, sir. I don't need to have a hundred people across the alley know I'm here. I'm just stopping by quickly and especially with Black still out there," Harry felt both clever and ashamed to use his godfather as an out like this, "I don't need people knowing where I am. I can't even use magic to defend myself since I'm out of school like this!"

His fierce whispering seemed to grab the man behind the counter who immediately looked at all of his clientele as though any of them could be Sirius in disguise, looking to kill the boy before him.

"I see your point, Master Potter. Here, follow me to the back room for a moment."

Harry honestly didn't know where the man was going with this or why he wanted him to go into the back room with him but with everyone in the store still looking around for him suspiciously, he decide he might take the better part of valor and follow the man away

"My name is Bernard Blott, young master, and by way of apology, I think I may be able to help you," He turned his back to Harry and walked to a nearby shelf, continuing as he ran his fingers across the titles, "Something that not many know is that the ministry is only able to track magic either done through a wand or with the signature of a wand attached to it. That does mean you may not be able to use your wand to defend yourself, but it does not mean you can't use _magic_ to defend yourself."

With a short "Aha!" Blott pulled a blood red leather volume from the shelf he had been looking through, "The ministry doesn't like this book getting out to any but those seeking masteries in wanded subjects, but I believe I may make an exception here for the boy-who-lived."

Harry bristled internally at the man, who first gave him away in a crowded shop then went on to call him the one identity he most despised.

"This book, the _Arcanum de Manus_, is a copy of a late 12th century manuscript written by an order of French monks. At the time they were a very secretive group who had assembled in an effort to understand the strange power they seemed to share, and without access to the greater magical community, they developed their own entirely wandless method of spell casting and spell crafting. Their technique takes much concentration and meditation, but can unlock in almost anyone the ability to cast spells without a wand. Very handy for casting without being tracked by the ministry, and even handier if one is hiding from a psychotic murderer," he said to Harry with a pointed look.

Harry's opinion of the man quickly reversed.

"If I follow what I read here, I could use magic without a warning from the ministry?"

"Yes, dear boy, but be careful and guard this knowledge jealously. This is a rare book, and beyond that is would be quite illegal should you be found with it."

Harry collected the tome with a worried look, and with the rest of the books he had picked up, quickly paid and left the shop. He had a new goal and something to work on for the summer. Maybe something to save him the next June when he would inevitably be attacked by a manticore or sent to an alternate dimension or back in time or something. Harry reflected on the fact that something that rated very high on his weird-shit-o-meter (he picked that phrase up from one of the movies he had listened to from his cupboard) happened like clockwork every June to him for the last few years.

His remaining time at the Leaky Cauldron was spent nose deep in the books he had picked up, learning the basics of the meditation techniques these strange French monks had espoused and trying to internalize the directions they had for channeling magic through himself.

The monks seemed to hold that magic flowed internally when one cast a spell, and while their techniques seemed to take more out of a person than the same spell cast with a wand, they were still astounding in their ease of use and simplicity. Notes in the margins of the book, written in a variety of hands, all seemed to compare their ideas with wands use and surprisingly the monks were not often found wanting. Harry, under the cover of the magic done all around him in the Cauldron, cast a couple small hover charms in an attempt to feel how his magic flowed with that spell. It took him a number of tries, over the time he had to spend away from privet drive, and not just a few hours waiting for an owl to expel him, before he found the feeling and as the monks prescribed and followed it down into himself.

As he chased what he perceived to be a small golden tingle down his arm and into his core, he slowly shut his eyes without realizing it. As he followed the tingle deeper and deeper into himself, he slowly came to see the place inside himself that tied him to the elemental force of magic

The tie at the absolute center of him glowed gold and green, like a freshly minted galleon and the green he saw in his eyes in mirrors. It seemed to spark and dance and swirl before him, its currents weaving in and around each other before plunging into the tangle of power at the center of himself. As soon as he saw its splendor, he forgot the golden tingle he had been chasing and lost his connection that place.

The mirror of the wall of his room called out in an accusing tone as he reopened his eyes, "What the hell, kid! What do you think you're doing, levitating everything in the room like that! If I had drifted even a little while you lifted me I could have fallen and smashed, then where would I be, huh?"

The mirror continued to hurl minor abuses at him while he processed those first statements and the things he had seen. He looked back to the book. It said what he saw was his own magical core, the thing inside him that made him special and separated him from the mundane world and its inhabitants.

The monks wrote of how this technique could be used by some of the muggle members of their order, and while they could not find a glowing core within themselves, they did find that the meditation was useful in centering themselves. It sped up their reaction times and bringing them peace of mind in dark times.

As he read it, he felt it inside himself. Finding his center, finding his core, had calmed him almost unnaturally. He thought he may have found a way to interact safely with the Dursleys, Malfoy and Snape too, come to think of it.

He raised his right hand towards the chair across the room from him, just a rickety wooden affair, but nonetheless his target. He tried to reach down into that place he found like the book described and to replicate the golden tingle he felt with his wand.

He stared at the chair for a solid fifteen minutes while he searched for the feeling, and when he found it finally he had to increase the tingle to a feeling of almost a physical itch before the chair took flight. Of course as soon as it did he scared himself into releasing it, but with the deed done and the concept proven Harry thought he may just spend all summer figuring out wandless magic.

Time passed and Harry was again "welcome" at the house of Dursley. He kept to his new habit of study and eventually on his birthday his present to himself was completing his first wandless transfiguration.

The next morning found the final interruption to his routine at number 4 Privet Drive. The mailman, who Harry had greeted at the door even without his uncle's prompting (he guessed his old habits died hard), delivered a very strange letter addressed to the Dursleys. The man had found it funny that it had been covered entirely in stamps, and given that Harry found a distinctly Weasley scrawl put in for the address, he was inclined to agree.

He brought the letter to Vernon and stayed behind for the results, which were sure to amuse if nothing else. He found his sense of humor had made a drastic turn towards the sarcastic this summer, and he was surprised to find that overall he did not mind the change.

Vernon understandably, Harry supposed, had left the room turning what Harry had taken to calling 'Uncle's Rage Red' for about twenty minutes before returning to actually read the substance of the letter instead of just the byline. After a few minutes perusal he found that he could be rid of his... _freakish _(he kept that moniker to himself given the murderer the boy had on a leash) nephew, and despite its source welcomed the letter. Harry had received a softball sized owl to the face the previous day, so he suspected he knew the contents of the letter and had waited.

"Boy! These Weasleys seem to want you for some sort of frea... er... sporting event. You're leaving with them this Sunday... right?"

Harry enjoyed watching his uncle suppress his desire to mock him, but decided to let it go to make the event easier for everyone, "I'll be leaving with them then, yes. Then you can all return to your normal lives here."

Vernon had a huge fight internally over whether or not he should dance over being rid of his horrid relation, or cry and buy weapons against the imminent arrival of those... people, all the while his face turned a rainbow's worth of colors further enforcing Harry's art company theory.

"Good. Be ready. I don't want them here for any longer than necessary."

Harry took his victory while he could, and choosing to again relieve the stress in the process, retreated to his room to finalize his packing. He would be going to the Weasley's place, which was an improvement despite having to deal with the adoring gaze of Ginny and what he was sure would be Ron's incessant quidditch talk. He loved the Weasleys, he thought, don't get him wrong, it's just that Ron was a messy insensitive berk most of the time, and Ginny was almost constitutionally incapable of speaking more than two words in a string to him.


	3. Chapter 2: A Very Weasley Rescue

Chapter 2

Harry woke at his normal time the next day, which is to say shortly after dawn. Long years of waking early to work at breakfast for the Dursleys, and longer years of needing to be at breakfast early in the great hall before people came to point fingers and whisper about him, had him trained to wake and prepare himself for the day at dawn.

He quietly showered before any of the Dursley's woke. After all, hot water was good early in the morning and they could hardly complain when they still had it later now could they? He dried himself off and went with his finest rags and cast-offs for the day. He also decided to start his last day here on a high note for the Dursleys by making them breakfast.

He figured he could mess with Dudley's diet and leave them happy, that way they would remember him with less rage than usual for when he had to return the next summer but he could still be something of a nuisance. He went to work with a small smile.

* * *

Vernon woke to the smell of a full English breakfast, which was something he had been sorely missing since his Dudders had come home. Petunia's insistence on trying to follow the comments of that good-for-nothing school medic at Smeltings had him going spare, only his leaving early each day and grabbing scones, gravy, and sausage at the pub a few blocks down from the Grunnings building had kept him from exploding at his darling wife.

He came downstairs to see the freak in his normal place. Or he supposed what used to be his normal place before his freakish murder of a godfather came into the picture. This day was starting right, he felt good, and the smell of beans, toast, and bacon was surely driving it farther and farther in the right direction. He sat for his breakfast and had what would have been his usual portion before this summer. His stomach felt more full than usual and it was a feeling he was relishing, the young freak had yet to say a word and was indeed still cooking in preparations for his Dudley's breakfast.

After he had made some headway into the day's paper, Dudley appeared to his breakfast, and it warmed Vernon's heart to see his son's face light up when Dudley saw the full monty laid out in front of him. Dudley sat down and laid into the food with a will, and Vernon sighed internally as he began what would turn out to be really the least unsavory event of the day for him.

"Boy! When are those _freaks_ coming here to get you? They'd best be dressed like the right kind of people for the neighbors!"

He saw his worthless nephew cringe and withdraw inside himself for a moment, and in that moment he felt like all was right in the world again. Then he remembered who he was talking to, or rather who the boy was related to, and he remembered what he said, and he saw Harry stop his withdrawal and instead turn around and open his mouth.

"What did you just say, oh dear _Uncle_?"

Vernon could feel the emphasis on their relation, and he had an idea why that emphasis was there.

"I thought we had a discussion about this, _Uncle_. I thought we talked about who were the real freaks, and what that meant..."

Vernon could hear the venom in the boy's tone, and he colored as he remembered the discussion the boy was alluding to. The discussion with that disgustingly bright bird and the realization that his life hinged on what the brat told his godfather. He remembered being afraid as he walked out of that conversation, and he hated that fear. The boy returned from the previous years changed from the child he had beaten down for over a decade, and Vernon had a suspicion that the boy might actually be dangerous now. His thoughts raced as he watched the boy's anger grow and then, in what was either a blessing or a curse, the boy removed the apron he had been wearing to catch grease and walked from the room.

* * *

Harry fumed silently about the Weasleys being called freaks again in front of him. Ron may be a prat most of the time, Ginny may have been a fan girl of the first order, and Percy was an authority worshipping berk (why did that also seem a bit like Hermione?), but the Twins were like terrifying older brothers to Harry and he loved the lot of them despite their failings. Harry wondered if this was what it was like to have and defend the honor of one's family but having no real basis for comparison, he released the thought. He went to his center, much faster now than he was when he had started out, and he sunk his emotions into his core where they dissipated. He honestly wasn't sure if that was healthy to do, or even a valid technique the monks would have approved of, but after living with the Dursleys the whole summer he had found it to be an excellent mechanism by which he could de-stress. He also felt sure that after all the time he spent doing it because of the Dursleys, his core looked bigger.

At the end of this process, which took him fractions of a second now after a summer of the same activity, Harry reflected that he would soon be gone from this place and _that_ was what mattered.

Holding his palm up in front of him, he wandlessly cast a _tempus_ and found he had an hour to kill before he was to be rescued from this dump. He spent the time debating the virtues of making his trunk featherweight, and whether or not that would be suspicious when the Weasleys arrived.

As it became only a few minutes until their arrival Harry moved his things downstairs. The Dursleys were watching the telly and didn't deign to pay any attention to him, though Harry suspected that was due to the terror his uncle was sure to still be feeling after angering him. Harry knew that if he wanted to head this kind of thing off for the next summer, he should leave the Dursleys with a solid reminder about why one does not anger a wizard, but he was so close to freedom with the Weasleys that he was prepared to let it go nonetheless.

Slowly the time he expected his rescuers came and went, in a move that would surprise everyone and anyone, the Weasleys were late again. Then came a horrendous noise from the left of the telly and behind the Dursley's electric fireplace.

"It's blocked off, how about that, how can I - OW, GEORGE!"

"Quickly, take this," At that an eerie green glow and flames that didn't seem to burn anything spread from behind the boarded up fireplace, "Get back and tell them to - OW, SHITE, FRED!"

There was a quick cry of "The Burrow!" and the glow and the voices disappeared, but not before a ripping sound was heard and a number of brightly colored taffy candies spilled from the edge of the fireplace.

Everyone in the house slowly turned from the drama in the fireplace to stare at Harry who shrugged as if to say, "Hell if I know."

Harry got up and walked over to the fireplace which had been boarded off when the electric fire moved in. No one seemed to be left, and he frankly wondered why they tried the fireplace. Wizards, he reflected, are known for many things, but not for their sense.

While Harry examined the minor damage left from the almost yuletide incursion, a small pop sounded at the sidewalk outside and Mr. Weasley walked to the front door and knocked. Being the only one standing, and the only one leaving, Harry wished his uncle (face colored what he called Migraine-Inducing Magenta), his aunt, and his dear cousin a fine summer and went to greet and depart with Mr. Weasley.

As Harry opened the door, Mr. Weasley immediately went to apologize for any damage, but seeing only Harry instead asked to see his uncle before they left.

"Ah, Mr. Dursley, I'm terribly sorry for coming in unannounced through the fire. I had your fireplace connected to the floo for the afternoon, but we hadn't considered that you would have it closed. After being stuck in there I decided apparition would be best and just popped over for Harry over here!" The red headed man seemed very pleased with himself and happy in general, which did not appeal to Vernon despite having what he considered his own personal Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. He still despised every atom that made up any wizard or witch regardless of the threat he thought rested on his life.

"It was... er.. No problem..." Vernon managed to strangle out, moving as he was between his magenta and red shades. Dudley, having finally realized there was something other than TV going on, caught sight of the taffy near the fireplace and moved his not-inconsiderable bulk off the couch to them.

"Well, just thought I'd say 'Hi' and apologize before taking Harry off your hands here," Mr. Weasley continued brightly, "we'll just be off then!"

By now Dudley was chewing happily on a yellow taffy, and in a move that terrified his family far more than the pig tail he had received three years previously, he burst into feathers and became in a moment a _truly_ massive canary.

"DAMMIT FRED! Sorry folks (_Molly would kill me for my language today_, he said under his breath), I'll have him fixed in just a moment, my son must have dropped one of his joke candies when we were in the fireplace."

He began moving his wand and whispering counter spells, while Petunia and Vernon both sat back so stunned by the sight of their son in bright yellow feathers that neither could bring themselves to speak.

After a few moments and a half dozen spells that went to no effect, Mr. Weasley just summoned the lot of the candy that had escaped the fireplace to examine it, coincidentally summoning the piece still in Dudley's newly formed beak. As the yellow taffy left his mouth he reverted in another splash of feathers to his normal corpulent state.

"Ah! there you go! My deepest apologies for that, my sons fancy themselves some sort of tricksters and they get up to mischief like this pretty regularly. Well, no harm done, Harry and I will just pop out them, Have a good summer!" Mr. Weasley managed to get it all out in one hurried and embarrassed breath as he guided Harry out to the curb.

"Harry, quickly, grab my arm and grab a hold of your trunk, we must be gone before something else happens."

They quickly apparated away before more damage could be done, leaving a thoroughly traumatized family behind them. Harry internally smirked at the image of a canary weighing 22 stone. That would leave the Dursleys, he thought, with a lasting impression of why one does not interfere in the affairs of wizards. "For they are subtle and quick to anger," he finished with a smirk.


	4. Chapter 3: The Burrow and a Breakdown

Chapter 3

Harry and Mr. Weasley popped back into existence, moments after seeking the better part of valor, just a few feet from the door to the Weasley household. Arthur took a moment before opening the door to take Harry aside.

"Harry, there are two things you should know about. First, please don't mention the canary incident," Harry's grin, which had reached almost its physical limits at this stage, took this moment to widen even further, "As funny as it would be, the Twins have been experimenting all summer with these candy things and it's been driving Molly spare. If she were to hear of it, none of us would hear the end of it."

Harry rapidly nodded his head. Despite his relatively limited experience with the matron of the Weasley household, he was well aware of her... exuberance... in expressing her displeasure. Truth be told he suspected most people in surrounding countryside for miles around were intimately familiar with it. He would years later find out later that the muggles of the area actually knew the region of the Weasley house as "The Screaming Hills," where one could often hear the strained voice of what they suspected was the ghostly reminder of a widow screaming at her children.

"Second, you should probably be on the lookout for Ginny. I don't know why or what's going on, but for the last few days she has been having quiet conversations with Molly, and as much as I love them all, I think they may be planning to try and get you to notice my girl."

Harry started at this. He reflected that he didn't really have much experience with this (read: no experience whatsoever) but he thought the father threatening you happened after you agreed to date the daughter.

"I don't worry about you and her, I've seen how she acts around you. I may be a quiet man, but I'm not blind. I think we did a disservice to her and you both, filling her head with the bedtime stories of the boy-who-lived. I just want you to beware. I trust you, you're more mature than some men three times your age, please be careful."

"I will, sir," came Harry's response. He could only imagine how bad the next two weeks would be. He had enough trouble at Hogwarts, with all its secret passages and hiding places, keeping away from the girl who seemed compelled to put her elbow in the butter dish whenever he was near. Harry knew he was not well adjusted. He knew his years with the Dursleys had broken whatever there was inside of him that understood his place in society and in a family or group. He hated it, but he understood it. He could accept these things, but Odin only knew how he could change it or if he even could. But despite all of it, Harry knew that a fan-girl was exactly what one did not build a relationship with. He knew a bad choice when he heard it, well, most of the time he reflected, and he knew this was one. Mr. Weasley had nothing to fear from him, Ginny was nowhere near his heart.

The two of them finally entered the Burrow (Harry often wondered at the name, for a family of Gryffindors, shouldn't it have been the den or something? A burrow was for badgers, he thought.) to the sound of the twins suppressing laughter and Molly working to needle out of them what they had done. Apparently the delayed return of Harry and their dad was enough to prove their plan successful.

"What is it! I know those expressions, I've raised you two! I know when you've done some mischief probably better than you!" The twins sniggered at this, "Tell me what you've done at poor Harry's house and I'll let you off easy, you know your father will tell me when he arrives!"

Arthur shared a small look with Harry at this, and they both entered the kitchen to find the Twins being berated in front of the collected Weasley clan and Hermione.

Upon their entry Molly's tirade let up, and the Weasleys all reacted to their entry. Fred and George tipped imaginary hats, Bill and Charlie stood up to introduce themselves, Ron got a look on his face that could be described as crafty (if you have a very low definition of crafty), Ginny's face lit up with ill-disguised worship, and Hermione formed her typical bushy haired cruise missile headed straight for him. Percy seemed to be absent, though he was in fact present, just buried face deep in, Harry squinted (and thought about the possibility of new glasses), was that a report on the thickness of cauldron bottoms?

His surprised musing was interrupted by the impact of Hermione Granger, missile extraordinaire, who crushed him into a hug. Her arms, strengthened as they were by years of carrying far more books than they had any right to both to and from the library, nearly crushed the life from Harry while she squealed, "Harry! Areyouokay?Whatsbeengoing onathomeforyou?Werethedursleystreatingyouokay?Whydon'tyouseemasthinasyouusedtobe?Didyougetyourhomeworkdone?"

Harry was both surprised and slightly annoyed that she managed to get all of that out of her in one breath. He was very protective of what happened to him at Durzkaban, and she pried with all her might every year. He'd grown a bit used to it during all his time with her, but after being left alone at the Dursleys having that back was just grating.

Harry managed to extricate himself from her arms, and with an amused expression patted her head and said, "Yes."

Harry left her to figure out what exactly he had responded to and moved on to share a handshake with Bill and Charlie who introduced themselves. Charlie had a brightly shining burn on him arm, which placed him as the brother who worked with dragons in Romania. He was stocky and seemed full of power, in a manner similar to the Twins. Bill was taller and seemed... cooler?... more exotic?... Harry couldn't place him as easily, but he had a full trench coat and boots of what was unmistakably dragon hide and what looked like the tip of a dragon's fang dangling from his ear. The air he put off was kind of what Harry had always imagined an older brother would, Harry immediately liked him.

Harry shared manly greetings with the pair of them, and his respect for them grew as they looked him up and down and didn't seem to find him wanting. Harry truly hoped they had nothing to do with whatever it was that Arthur was trying to warn him about.

Molly had gotten around the table by then, and she drew Harry into one of her own bone crushing hugs.

"Harry dear! We were just waiting for you! What happened to the fireplace on the other side?"

"The Dursleys boarded it up, ma'am. They had an electric fire in front of it that blocked you all inside the place itself."

"Electric fires! What will those muggles think up next! Well Harry we're all so glad to have you here," Harry thought her smile at this point seemed maybe a little too predatory, "You'll be sharing a room with Ron of course, right across from Ginny."

Ginny had gotten around the table, she stood a few feet from Harry, arms folded in front of her and unable to quite meet Harry's eyes. Harry rolled his eyes internally at her behavior, after that first time he had met her, he remembered seeing her at the station from the train, and she seemed constantly overwhelmed by him. From what Arthur had said, there were bedtime stories about him, fighting dragons too, he was sure, and if she grew up on those maybe her behavior was understandable. Didn't make it any less irritating. Also didn't make the fact that she seemed to love him for the part of himself he hated most, the part of him the public made the night he lost the only people to truly love him.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, they seemed to go back to his parents a lot during the summer. Go figure. He finally tuned back into the Weasley channel to figure out what was up.

"...Now I'll go buy your things for you while you all are off. You won't have time, I don't think, what with the game. They have taken days in the past, so you'd best be prepared-"

Harry, having heard something that actually interested him, interrupted her for a moment, "Mrs. Weasley, you don't need to buy me anything, I can buy it myself with what I have at Gringotts and I'm not sure if I could pay you back."

"Don't be silly, dear! I have your key to your vault and I can head to Diagon Alley for you."

"You have my key? Since when, ma'am?"

Molly suddenly looked a little nervous, and the family that had been previously leaning back to let her explain to Harry the plans for the next few days tuned back into the conversation themselves.

"Why... umm... Dumbledore himself gave it to me at the start of the summer. He said to keep it for you for your use during break."

This was the exact shite he was talking about, Harry thought, no one could even be bothered to give him access to his own money. This was the same as going back to the Dursleys. He had no choice in these things and just like with the Dursleys, he realized, if things were going to be not crap in the near future, he probably needed to just take care of himself.

"Excellent then," he said, "I'll just take it back. We still have a week and a half until the first, I'm sure I can just floo over at the next opportunity and take care of my school things myself."

Molly immediately didn't look so keen on this idea. The Twins, Bill, and Charlie all looked a little impressed with Harry, though he figured that may also be because they were impressed he was willing to stand up to the human volcano. Arthur seemed torn between the same kind of impressed and disapproval. Harry hoped he was leaning more towards impressed. Ron just seemed jealous that Harry had his own vault, Ginny's expression hadn't yet wavered from worship, and Hermione was just disappointed.

"Well, Harry dear, its unsafe for you to go alone," Hermione made a move in agreement, "It would really just be best if I went."

"Ma'am, no disrespect meant, but I'm incredibly uncomfortable with anyone else having my key to my vault. That vault is all I have in the world, and the only thing I have left from my family. Even the pictures I have of them didn't come from them. Please just give me my key to go alone," Harry hated playing the orphan card like that, he hated being an orphan more, but he knew the first step in him making anything better for him was having the courage and strength of will to make that step in the first place. Gryffindors charge forward...

"I suppose all that's true," Molly paused there, the whole clan honestly seemed abashed at that, Ginny had moved from worship to sorrow and even Hermione no longer looked disapproving, "Very well, here it is."

Mrs. Weasley removed a ring of keys from her pocket, and picked Harry's golden vault key off of it from next to the Weasley copper one. Harry wondered why his key was on a ring in her pocket and not somewhere being kept safe. He filed that away for later.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. If you don't mind, I've already been up and about for a long time today, I made food for the Dursleys and dealt with their... unpleasantness. I'd really like to grab a nap before dinner."

Harry moved to the next room and the stairs but before he could quite make it Ron had finally moved and stopped Harry before the first step.

"Why're you taking a nap, mate, we're going to be playing a game of pick up before dinner."

"For the exact reason I just said, I'm bushed. You'd be too if you had whales yelling at you all day, use your brothers, or maybe your sister, mate. I need some sleep."

"But... but quidditch?"

Harry shook Ron's arm off of his and took the steps two at a time, Ron would never change, and he would also never understand that Harry really didn't care for quidditch. Flying was where it was at, soaring above the stadium, searching for the snitch. It wasn't about the game, the seeker was functionally not even part of the team. He just flew and grabbed a shiny golden thing entirely separate from anything involving any other people.

All summer every one of Ron's letters had been about what they would see once he knew his dad had gotten the tickets to the World Cup. Ron had kept him up to date on the standings and his guesses on who the cup would feature. It was classic Ron, nothing useful, all quidditch.

As he lay down, Harry stopped caring. Hogwarts, the closest thing he had ever had to a home, was just about a week and a half away. He may have a huge international game of quidditch and a week of Ron's devotion and Ginny's worship, but he was closer now than he had been all summer. Putting up with crap was in many ways his thing at this point.

* * *

Harry woke with a start the next morning after a thoroughly annoying and awkward dinner. Arthur turned out to be right, as soon as he woke up from his nap the night before Molly had sat him next to Ginny and spent the whole dinner trying to set up conversations between them.

It was tough for her though, because truth be told, Harry and Ginny had almost nothing in common. They were in Gryffindor, but that was about it. She had a loving family, had been raised as a witch, she was from an entirely different world than him, and she could barely be in the same room with him as it stood. She was certainly better than in previous years, Harry thought, but that didn't make her behavior good.

But it was over, and after they all had woken up and gotten to their campsite for the World Cup (who in the name of Odin invented the portkey and what were they on when they did it?) Harry, Hermione and Ron set off to grab some water for a solid cuppa while the rest of the clan that had gone with them started up breakfast.

They had woken and arrived at near the crack of dawn. Not too bad by Harry's usual standard but tough for everyone else, and now that they arrived it was a reasonable hour and most of the wizards who had been camping out for day were waking up and starting their own breakfasts.

Harry was nearly struck dumb though by the sight of wizarding children. He had never seen truly young wizarding kids, and it hit him very hard in a sensitive place seeing what all he could have had. Who he could have been if his parents hadn't been murdered.

Harry saw a young kid with shaggy brown hair that seemed to stick all over riding a child's training broom. It went slowly, to be sure, and it flew so low that the kid's toes grazed the tips of the blades of grass in the field, but the expression on the kid's face...

And then the kid's mum and dad came out of the tent. Harry saw the father's face light up like fireworks in the night sky seeing the boy's play. The mother looked angry to see her child playing on a broom alone outside unsupervised, but as she came out behind the father, she saw how happy her boy looked and wrapped her arms around the father. Her face adopted an expression of absolute contentment. She was happy.

It hit Harry harder and deeper than any basilisk or dementor could. Hearing the death of his mother at the hands of Voldemort himself, and Voldemort himself talking about his parents death back in first year, both combined couldn't hurt him like what he saw before him.

Harry had stopped the instant he saw the child. Ron and Hermione had both not noticed right away, and given the size of the field they were in and the crowds even now beginning to move around and scrounge for food, they were quickly separated from him. As Harry stood there with unshed tears in his eyes, the parents finally noticed the strange fourteen year old boy staring at their son with gleaming tear filled eyes.. They watched their son for a moment more, and then the father made a move towards Harry, his hand outstretched towards him.

He looked like he wanted to help, but Harry just saw the outstretched hand and remembered all his own time at the age of the child. He remembered the strikes and the names. And suddenly the tears weren't unshed anymore.

The father took another step towards Harry, and Harry simply ran.

* * *

Ten minutes of terrified escape passed before Harry remembered to reach down into his center. Harry used it to find a small calm place inside the raging storm of his regrets and bitterness and anger. From that tiny island of calm he recognized that he was alone now in the woods that separated the Weasley's field from the field they went to for water. Harry found a stump growing next to a tree and he sat next to it, resting his elbow on the stump and his hand over his eyes. He retreated to his center, and sunk all of the feelings that had been overwhelming him into his core.

He felt his anger at the Dursleys, and his anger at Sirius, and even the tiny anger he had felt towards his parents for not being there for him sink directly into his tie into magic at his very center. He sunk all he felt there, and when he was finished he looked back at his center, and it was much, much bigger. He was astounded. It was half again as large as it had been just twenty minutes previously. He had always felt it got bigger when he centered himself and let his emotions disappear into it, but every time before had been a confrontation with the Dursleys, just minor annoyance and resigned anger. He needed to think about this. Harry checked his watch, it had been half an hour since he had left with the others for water. The Weasleys would probably be worried. Hell, if Molly was with them there would already be search parties out. He gave a small and bitter laugh at the imagined antics of the one who fancied herself his replacement mother.

Harry stood and brushed himself off, then headed back to camp. He had a bit of a hard time figuring out where he was, but when he saw the enormous silk tent with the peacock out front (they had passed it on the way in, and seeing it again made harry feel embarrassed all over again for whoever owned it, it look hideous and completely opulent) he figured out how to make it back.

He soon arrived back at camp, and the first ones to see him were the Twins and Bill. The Twins took one look at his tear streaked face, eyes still a little red and puffy, and they each took a shoulder and brought him inside the tent. Bill put down the plate of eggs and bacon he had been working on and followed them in before blocking the flap. He had a feeling that this was an older brother moment, and he silently thanked his lucky stars that his mum had stayed at the Burrow. The others all noticed Harry as he walked in, and everyone with the exception of Ron saw something was wrong. Before he closed the entrance to the tent Arthur stood and made as if to follow, Bill met his eyes and shook his head. The same part of him that felt this was an older brother moment knew that precluded the involvement of any parent.

"Harry, are you okay, you don't seem hurt mate, but we were worried about you when you didn't show back up with Ron and Hermione. They said they lost you in the crowd, " said one twin, the other (Harry was too far gone to even try for names) followed up with, "Did anyone hurt you?"

Harry shook his head in a resigned way. He didn't want to talk or tell them. It made him feel weak to have done what he did, to have felt like that. He completely lost his center. He had been relying on the meditation techniques from the book Blott had sold him all summer to not go mad, and in a moment of utter despair he had lost it.

Bill walked over after closing the tent and giving a stern look at everyone outside, "Harry, you know I'm a curse breaker, do you mind if I cast a quick diagnostic spell on you, just to be sure you're okay?"

Harry numbly nodded at him, and Bill waved his wand slowly back and forth in front of him, softly chanting something that sounded vaguely Norse to him.

"Well you've got nothing harmful on ya, friend. You had a long distance tracking charm, it was a sophisticated one, but I've seen worse and I got it off of you, now, can you tell us what happened?"

Harry looked at all of them. He knew the Twins and trusted them. They had given him the map, and they had to a certain extent watched out for him. They had exempted him from any of their pranks and they really were like surrogate older brothers. Bill he didn't know personally, but Harry was nothing if not a good judge of character, it came from years of reading the adults around him, and he felt sure he could trust Bill.

"Can I talk to you guys," His voice broke a little, telling them a lot about what he had been doing, "Can I trust you to not talk to anyone else about what I say? Not Ron or your mum or Ginny or anyone?"

The Twins shared a serious look, and then both looked at Bill with the same stern eyes he had used not a minute earlier on their dad. They all nodded and look back at Harry, Bill spoke for the three of them, "Yes. We've got your back Harry."

Bill conjured a seat and sat in front of Harry and the Twins, who were on the bench of the dinner table. Harry looked at all of them and saw the same look, the one he equated with the older brother feeling he had gotten from Bill the previous day.

"I... I saw a boy. He couldn't have been more than four or five. I just saw him flying on a small broom, a kid's broom. He clearly was just stealing a few minutes on it while his folks were making breakfast. He just looked so happy. and then his parents walked out and they looked at him, and they were mad, but then they just let him go for a minute and they were all so happy and it just all made me think, I could have had that. I could have been happy. I could have had a home and a family and I could have had friends and a name and... and..."

Harry almost broke down again just saying it. He was so close to breaking he could feel it, he could feel hysteria creeping in at the edges of his center, but with the last of his mental strength he clung to it. Bill slowly moved his hand to Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Harry. I'm so sorry," Bill moved closer at that, and he brought Harry across the gulf between them and just gave him a hug. For Harry that was all it took, it broke his hold on his calm state, he began crying into bills shoulder and the Twins behind him each put a hand on Harry's back. They didn't know what to do, but they wanted to do something to show Harry they were there.

"Harry, I don't have any words that will make it better for you. I don't have a lot of wisdom for you. You have survived something no man has ever survived, and then you kept going through some of the deepest shit I have ever heard of. Fred and George here don't send a lot of owls. they aren't serious blokes, but in the past they have talked to me about you. They've mentioned what you've done for our family, and they've mentioned some of the things you have done, and Harry," Bill leaned back at this and looked Harry in the eyes, "It is literally my job to walk into some of the most dangerous place filled with curses and wards and traps designed by dark wizards to protect their most treasured belongings, and I haven't dealt with a tenth of the things you have."

Harry couldn't even begin to know what to feel, and Fred picked up where Bill left off, "Harry you can never replace what you have lost. You just can't. George and I were the ones to pick you up summer before last, remember? We don't know all you have to deal with, but we saw the bars in the windows, and we saw the locks on the door. We know it's bad, and we can only guess how it was before Hogwarts. The only thing we can securely say, is that you have some of what you lost now, in us."

George moved closer to him, "We know our mom is too much. Bill over here left to be a curse breaker in the first place just to get away from home. We know Ron is a prat and is jealous of you most of the time. And we know Ginny, even though she tries, just sees the 'boy-who-lived' and not you. But we at least are here for you. You can trust Charlie too, to a certain extent, but we really do have your back Harry. We can't replace what you've lost but we can help."

Harry looked embarrassed now. He wiped the tears from his face and from his eyes, and for a moment just gave in to being a fourteen year old kid confused and seeking comfort, and he leaned in and hugged Bill of his own volition. Fred and George felt the moment and leaned in for a bit of a group hug. They each gave in to their feelings for a few minutes.

Harry eventually resurfaced from the hug, and he turned to look at all of them in turn, "Thanks guys. It's really, really hard sometimes. It hard sometimes with you all too. It's hard to see a family and try to figure out where I belong. I just don't know. I was five years old before I found out I had a name other than just freak, for Odin's sake. But thank you."

The four of them stood up, and after Harry took another minute to put himself to rights, they moved out of the tent. Harry grabbed an unoccupied stump near the fire, and Fred filled a plate with food for him. Ron looked askance on the four of them, Hermione actually opened her mouth before George shot her a look so severe she shut it with a snap. Arthur made to walk over near Harry and Bill stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Everyone seemed to feel the somber mood the guys left the tent with, and for a minute there wasn't any conversation, just the dull roar of the wakening crowd all around them and the crackling of the fire they surrounded.

Then George made a face, distracting Ron for a moment with just how out of place it was, while Fred quickly showed his skill at muggle magic, and with a bit of sleight of hand slipped a 'special' sausage onto Ron's plate. Nearly everyone was distracted by George, but Harry had been expecting them to do something to break the tension (they really did have his back, didn't they?) and he noticed Fred slip it under Ron's fork with a wink.

George stopped and went back to his food, and Ron snorted before filling his face with the reckless abandon normally seen only by men running from rampaging nundu and charging erumpent. In a moment he had inhaled the special sausage and he immediately burst into bright pink feathers as he morphed into a large flamingo.

Everyone at the Weasley campsite went to pieces as all the tension broke into uproarious laughter. even the people from the surrounding sites saw the flamingo that had no idea what to do with itself and laughed. Ron in his own inimitable style gave up figuring his limbs out in a moment and just craned over and began scarfing down eggs from his plate again.

Everyone calmed down for a moment until George quipped, "Is that rather cannibalistic, or is it just me?"

The campsites around them all joined in the laughter even more this time, and while Hermione's face mirrored Percy's in its minor disapproval, everyone had a solid laugh and moved on with their day. Harry shot a very grateful look at both the twins.


	5. Chapter 4: An Attack, and a Game I Guess

Chapter 4

The Game itself was good, Harry supposed. He wasn't a quidditch fanatic, so like Hermione, one game was much the same as another to him but the company was what he was after. His brothers (Fred and George, and maybe even Bill were no longer just friends) kept up a good commentary that put Bagman's to shame and even made up for the Malfoys being there. Harry wondered if there was anything Malfoy's money couldn't buy, but in the end decided that was society's problem and not his.

The two things that stuck out to Harry were the Veela, and Krum. The Veela happened first, Harry had spent all morning after his breakdown regaining his calm, and when they ran out onto the field he felt a silvery pressure come in at him and his center from all sides. He could feel it effecting him, and it made him... horny? He didn't understand the influence, but he immediately pulsed his magic outward for a moment to break himself free. He held his barrier around himself, and then began to look at the people near him. Ron, the Twins (his brothers, he amended internally), and Draco all seemed to want to go to the edge of the box.

Hermione grabbed Ron before he could do more than leave his chair, Draco's mother grabbed him before he could even do that and his father looked disgusted for some reason. Harry put a hand each on Fred and George's shoulder and moved whatever barrier he had found for himself out to them. They immediately calmed down and looked at him strangely, he just shook his head and mouthed "Later". Bill noticed and smiled, while Charlie seemed indifferent to the whole affair and Molly had simply taken Arthur's hand.

Harry spent a large portion of the match watching the silver influence. It flowed like the tides, in and out, seeming to match the moods of the beautiful women who were the Bulgarian's mascots. He didn't like it, he didn't trust them. It took only a small part of his attention after a while to simply block them out, and he eventually removed his hands from his brothers when he figured out how to extend his shield outside himself.

Krum, on the other hand, was no such troubling influence. His Wronski feint was devastating, and the way the man flew gave Harry the chills. He had no warm and fuzzy feelings for the guy himself, but he seemed to practically not need a broom for the way he glided around looking for the snitch. Harry watched his ease in the air and could feel only jealousy. Here, Harry thought, was a man after his own heart.

Ireland won, Krum got the snitch, and his brothers were looking at Bagman with a predatory gleam in their eyes. He wished them well, but he knew people, and Bagman was as great a snake in the grass as he had ever seen. Harry would have called him a Slytherin if his cunning had seemed to involve any intelligence instead of just instinct.

They moved back to their tent after the match finally ended. Harry wasn't sure if he was glad or not that they were nearer the Irish supporters. They seemed to be in such high spirits (Or drunk, Harry thought privately) that they were likely to riot. But on the other hand if they were nearer the Bulgarian supporters... that whole area was depressed and within sight of the incredibly pleased Irish it was, if anything, _more_ ripe for a riot. Harry really just hoped the Ministry was on its game tonight. Anything less would result in deaths, and dozens probably.

The group retired to the area surrounding their fire and had hot chocolate until Ginny fell asleep in her cup. Arthur moved them all inside the tent and admonished them all to get some sleep. Harry had a bad feeling from somewhere and was too tense, he instead sat cross legged and sunk his awareness inside himself.

Now that he actually had time, he processed all of the events of the day. He looked at his own reactions and feelings, and his new connections to the Twins and to a lesser extent Bill. He wanted to like Bill, but couldn't bring himself to name him a brother like he had the Twins. He knew that after the game Bill would disappear back to Egypt and he couldn't lie to himself at his center. He would be devastated to name a man his brother and then not see him again. He wouldn't do that to himself despite Bill's kindness and solidity. He wanted an older brother like that, he wanted the man to have his back, but he wouldn't let him, not now at least.

Then he examined his tie into Magic. He could feel _himself_ use the capital M to name it. The more he looked at his center the more he was sure that it wasn't a force inside himself, but rather a tie into an elemental force. Magic, he figured, was like gravity or wind or lightning, it was a force of nature that existed entirely outside him. He thought his core was like a bucket he dropped into the well that was magic. It was the vehicle through which he channeled this universal force. He had spent a lot of time over the summer speculating on it, and he wondered if there wasn't a way to induce the tie in a mundane person.

He thought the connection he had to Magic must also have an emotional component. Why else would it expand when he used it as a sink for his negative emotions? He wondered what would happen if he tried sinking positive emotions into it. Harry resolved to try it the next time he went flying, which was really the only thing he had that he could reliably find any joy in.

Harry found he still couldn't sleep. He'd spent maybe half an hour so far meditating on his life and his connection to Magic. He found that meditating could almost always let him find dreamless sleep, but his bad vibe from earlier refused to leave him. Why the hell was he still nervous? Harry sighed out loud, thinking about it wouldn't help him, he gave up on it.

He directed his thoughts now toward the Veela. What was the strange presence he had felt? They had clearly affected the minds of the younger Weasleys, specifically the men. Gender specific magic? He had never heard of it before, as far as he knew magic affected everyone equally, he thought it was why the magicals never seemed to discriminate between race and gender like he had always heard about from the colonies and in history in primaries.

That had to be it though. Why else hadn't the girls been affected? He knew Hermione had a strong will, but he didn't think of Ginny as particularly strong headed. She should have been affected if Ron had been. Hell, even his brothers had seemed to be affected until he ran his barrier through them. Harry resolved to look through the Hogwarts library when he got back.

He looked at the barrier he had formed around his mind to stave off the veela influence. His core was gold and emerald, but the barrier he had formed to keep them out was blood red, it shined in a way he associated with rubies, but was far darker. Harry fixed it in place, tying it with tendrils of power to his center so his magic would keep it in place without his conscious influence. That should keep him safe, at least from Veela. If they could affect his mind like that then maybe anything could. He would have to be much more careful.

With these final thoughts, the changes in his environment that he had been observing passively came to the forefront of his mind. The screaming from the party outside had lost that indefinable aspect that said 'Party! Happy!' and gained something that yelled 'Terror!' far stronger.

Harry stood and moved himself from the bunk bed. He put on his pants and shirt, tied his trainers tightly, and threw on a jumper before leaving the boy's room and heading into the tent proper. Bill, Charlie, and Arthur were out there sharing what looked like glasses of fire whisky. They were having a quiet conversation, but Harry interrupted them.

"Guys, quiet for a second, listen."

The three men started at Harry's presence. Charlie flashed annoyance at being ordered by a boy almost a decade his junior, but they quieted down and listened. Harry spoke again.

"Trouble. Let's take a look outside."

Harry moved around the table and men who still occupied it and stepped silently to the flap, moving it aside and taking a single step outside. The horizon was lit up, which wasn't unexpected, but it was too bright. It spoke of fire, but far more than the dotting of campfires it should have been though. In the distance, from the direction of the groundskeeper's place there were about an even dozen wizard milling around a cabin.

Behind Harry, the men of the Weasley clan came out and stood with him. They had exited in just enough time to see the milling wizards Harry had noticed break in to the groundskeeper's cabin with a butt of splinters and a cry of "_Reducto_!"

Arthur gasped and Bill visibly tensed as they were all witness to the wizards pulling on white masks and black robes. Shortly after they had dressed, the mundanes (Harry decided then and there that muggle was a slur) floated out and were floated above the small but growing crowd of wizards in masks.

"Death Eaters."

It came out nearly emotionless. Arthur didn't move, it nearly looked like he couldn't. From his face, Harry had a hard time deciding if it was rage or fear on the man's face. Both seemed out of place, Arthur was almost always a very middle of the road man, he didn't seem one to be moved to extremes at all. Harry had heard him though, and Harry too was moved to rage.

He immediately sunk the rage into his core, and it seemed to hum inside him as he stood there.

"We have to go to help the ministry, Harry get back inside, wake the others. All of you go into the woods, I'll summon some aurors."

Arthur hadn't yet moved after speaking. He still seemed paralyzed. Harry watched as the Death Eaters started rotating the groundskeeper's wife around, laughing as her skirt fell when she was inverted and laughing further at the woman's attempts to keep her dignity.

"No," Harry said the one word and the three men looked at him.

"Are we wizards?" Harry said with his rage evident in his voice, "Or are we mice? They'll be walking this way soon. We all have wands, I won't move an inch while this scum walks about in plain view."

The three men took a step back as they could feel Harry's rage and they could almost feel his magic hum inside him.

"I'm going back in there, waking Fred, George and Percy, then I'm going to stun Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They would panic and be a risk anyway. Bill, you're a curse breaker, can you erect a shield ward around our tent?"

The men could feel the authority in his voice, and they could feel the experience in it as well. Here was the boy... no. Here was the man that had rescued their Ginny from a basilisk and had faced Voldemort himself and come out on top. Arthur may have been involved in the first war, but even he had not seen the same action as this 14 year old.

Bill gave a tight nod, and Harry continued, "Then start now, give us five feet out here in front and three around the edges of the tent, don't bother closing off the ward, hold it yourself, I'll help you when they come. When I wake them, the rest of us will start transfiguring stones into a wall around us. Leave spots for us to look out but make the wall up of individual pieces, if they start throwing unforgivable around, the individual stones will break and can be replaced instead of wall segments. Start now, I'll wake the rest."

Harry started towards the tent flap, and when no one moved he turned and said, "NOW!"

The three sprang into motion, Bill started up a chant in old Gaelic and Arthur and Charlie were summoning pebbles by the score to provide raw material for the transfigurations.

Harry went first to the girl's room in the tent, he opened the door and didn't even bother to look inside, two red bolts flew from his hand and stunned the girls, not even giving them a chance to wake. Harry knew they would be risks and he was stepping toward the boy's room without even waiting to see if his spells hit. He could feel behind him the spells impacting their targets.

As he opened the door to the boy's room, all the boys woke with a start. Harry spent a fraction of a second thinking that he may have opened the door with too much force before addressing the groggy group in front of him.

"Fred, George, Percy, out front now. You're helping your dad and Charlie make us a wall around the tent. Wands out, lads, there is trouble."

They didn't move fast enough for him, so he touched each of their shoulders briefly, shooting a wordless enervate through each of them in the same way he had shared his shield with Fred and George earlier during the match. The energy he shot them full of got them immediately up and at'em, the Twins had their wands out in a second and were moving, Percy gave him a queer look before joining them.

Ron threw a yawn so wide Harry momentarily worried about his head falling apart and managed a "What?" before Harry grabbed his shoulder and sent a stunner through his hand. He took a second to move Ron fully back into his bed, then went back outside.

The guys had the stone blocks put together with sticking charms, and were halfway done by the time Harry got outside. His brothers and Percy were immediately moving to help, and Bill's chanting cut out a moment after Harry exited.

"The shield is ready, you want me to activate it now?", Bill asked as he turned to Harry.

"No, hold it off for now. We have one more thing to do after we finish our defenses."

The two then turned and helped the rest of the guys finish the wall, then they all turned and looked through the gaps they had left to the Death Eaters. While they had been working the group had doubled in size, and at the outskirts of the crowd men were crushing tents in their way with basic blasting curses and the odd cry of "_Incendio_!"

Harry voice picked up over the roar of fear and spell fire, " Now, Arthur and Charlie, cast your best cushioning charms at the ground behind us, and the rest, summon a different member of the family out there. We can't let them hurt those people, especially the kids, and when we take away their fun they should focus on us instead of running riot through the rest of the crowd. We'll keep'em occupied until the Aurors show up and take them all from behind. Any questions?"

Harry was pissed off and afraid from his toes to the tips of his hair, but he knew how this would play out without him acting. He didn't just pick up transfiguration texts in Diagon over the summer, he had grabbed a pretty broad spread which included a couple histories of the 'Blood War'. Voldemort only had a few score followers, but fear kept every single wizard in all of the UK down while he and his tiny group ran roughshod over the country. All they needed was a backbone and it would have been over, no wizard can fight off fifty others at once.

If Harry had just run away the groundskeeper would have been killed, and his family would have been lucky to just die. The aurors would have had to try and capture rioters one at a time across a wide area and the bastards who started it would just have gotten away. Maybe he did have a saving people thing, but he didn't care. He couldn't stand by here, in the heat of the moment, and just let these pieces of human garbage walk unchallenged.

"No, Good. Arthur and Charlie, get casting. The rest, on three, everyone aim for someone different so we don't miss. Three... Two.. Now..."

With cries of _Accio_ the family being floated about suddenly rushed through the air and over the small wall they had constructed. As soon as they had landed on the cushioning charms, Harry wandlessly stunned them and turned to Bill, "Now, Bill!"

Bill turned to the lines he had drawn in the dirt and spoke an activation phrase, and as soon as it left his mouth a glowing silver-blue shield enveloped them. They were safe for the moment as the crowd they had stolen the two children and husband and wife from was stunned by losing their play things.

Harry turned to the rest of the group, "Stay on your toes, guys. We're not through this yet. We're lucky because most of that crowd is drunken idiots. Arthur, can you put up a small ward so no one can apparate into this area?"

"Don't bother, Harry, they can't see through the wall we made and there isn't space between our shield ward and the wall. They don't have any place to apparate to."

Harry took the moment to thank his lucky stars, apparition was the last thing he could think of that could get them. Now all they needed to do was hope the aurors got there soon. At that moment the first red bolt of light flew across the space between the crowd and their ward. It noticeably dimmed and Bill grunted. Harry didn't know how the rest of their energy reserves were holding up. Even for seven people they had done a lot of spell work, Harry had hoped that Bill could last longer but he wasn't really surprised.

He ran next to Bill and had him crouch next to the wall away from one of the viewing gaps they had left. Harry placed his hand on Bill's shoulder like he had Fred and George earlier that day, and in happier times. He took all of his fear for the family behind them and for the family supporting him, and he took all of his rage and hate for the cowards behind masks outside their wards, and he funneled it all into his core, then he funneled the resulting surge of magical energy through his hand and into Bill.

* * *

Bill was very tired when the call came from Harry to raise the ward he had set up. The ward he had made was a variation on an old Celtic ward he had found on his first ever assignment with Gringotts. They had been breaking into a burial mound, a man that owed the goblins a substantial sum of galleons had hidden his reserve cash in the ancient burial mound of his clan. Bill had been assigned to a master ward breaker at the time, and he remembered the ward forever after because of how long it took them to break it.

Normal curse breaking for long established wards, like those on the burial mound and later in his career the ones on some of the nastier tombs in Egypt, required the breakers to place energy sinks into the area around the ward to soak up energy from them and weaken them so the breakers could get in. The ward he used had taken days of waiting until the master he was working with ran out of patience. The ward was immune to passive methods, it turned out, and could only be brute forced, and it took a lot of energy to break for them too.

What he hadn't counted on was the amount of energy it took to maintain. He just didn't have it in him. The summoning charm he used to grab the father (Robert something, he thought, his dad had mentioned it in passing but he forgot) had taken a lot from him, and he had transfigured quite a few of the blocks protecting them too.

As soon as the first blasting curse impacted on the shield he knew he had failed Harry and his family. He was bushed, it had been a long day and the glass and a half of Ogden's finest hadn't helped either. He knew they were done for and he was about to give up all hope, right until he felt Harry's hand on his shoulder drag him down away from the hole in the wall he had been looking through and to a crouching position.

Then he had to close his eyes as he was _flooded_ with energy. He felt his ward soak up all he had to give, and the energy flooding into him from his shoulder just kept coming. Slowly he opened his eyes as he adjusted to the sheer volume of magic pulsing through him. He felt like he was being wrung like a sponge for everything in him, but Harry was giving him just as much as the ward was taking, and even a bit more.

Bill glanced at Harry, who met his eyes and held them. As he adjusted to the flow through him he began to get a tingling sense of another person. He first felt all of the fear Harry had been holding down since he guided them out just a few minutes ago, and it was almost overwhelming him. The more in tune he got with the energy coursing through him, the more he felt though. He got Harry's raw and pressing hate and rage against the people outside the ward. He felt the hate, and he could tell why, he had the sense that Harry despised each and every individual one of them because even if they were real Death Eaters or just some good for nothing rioters, he lost his parents because of all of them. Harry felt as if he had lost his life because of all of them, and every speck of that rage was channeled into the magic protecting them.

Bill raised his gaze from the emerald flames in the eyes next to him to the ward around them which had turned opaque from the energy in it. Bill barely noticed the curses raining down on the ward from the outside. He concentrated for a moment and identified a number of different blasting, piercing, drilling, and flame spells. From the sheer number of signals he was getting the crowd must truly have shifted focus to them, but the signals he was getting were so muted that the shield wasn't affected one iota by them.

Bill looked around for his brothers and his dad, and they were each looking around wide eyed at the ward. They had never seen this kind of thing before, they honestly didn't know that wards could do this. Bill himself was only unsurprised because he had been part of a group that had raided an Egyptian arch-mage's tomb near the edge of the Nile's widest point from the wet season of 1238. That wizard had made his ward stones the living bones of a trio of dragons, binding all of their magic into the wards he had made.

It was one of the cruelest things he had ever seen; he didn't share Charlie's love for the great beasts, but binding the life forces and magics of three living beings into the wards had supercharged them and caused the dragons to waste away. Their bones were found curled into themselves, as thought they were in the greatest of pain.

That ward, powered by the entire life force of three _dragons_ was the only time he had seen something this powerful. Bill had to admit, even with the torrent of energy he was getting from the boy beside him that he considered a good man, he was afraid.

Harry moved a bit closer to him, "Bill, listen to me for a sec," he whispered.

Bill look back to harry, his family was still wide mouthed and uncomprehending, "What?"

"Bill don't tell a soul about this. I have had enough trouble at school. I don't need more attention from Malfoy and Fudge. Tell them this was accidental magic, tell them everything I have done tonight was accidental. I don't have a lot left in me. I can feel you through this link, I know I can trust you. Please have my back on this."

"Harry, you've been casting without a wand all night, did you know that?" It had scared Bill earlier, but he had enough on his mind to let it slide. Harry's comment made it sound like this _wasn't_ accidental magic though.

Bill watched Harry look at his empty hands and quietly say bollocks.

"Bill, please, tell everyone it was accidental, tell them that you felt just barely concealed terror from me. I can cast wandlessly. I can help you to as well if you want, I planned on showing the Twins how. But I need you on this. Folks will trust you."

Bill felt the flow from Harry diminish a little. Then it jumped down a bit more. Harry closed his eyes and the flow stabilized. Bill felt a moment of terror and immediately paid attention to the signals he had been getting from the ward. They had dropped off almost completely a moment ago, and now only got a shot or two, and the shots seemed to be at weird angles now, no longer directed in. It took Bill a full half minute to figure out what that meant, and he brought his focus back to Harry before him.

"I think the aurors came, Harry. We aren't taking shots any more, they dwindled off. I'm going to let it down."

Harry opened his eyes for a second and nodded his assent before tightly closing them again. Bill started muttering the closing phrases he developed for the ward, and the third time me hit the seventh and final syllable in the phrase, the ward dropped.

He and Harry stood and looked outside through the holes in the wall again, red robes were everywhere, and the folks in them were tying up black robed and masked people all over the place. In the distance the mark of Voldemort shimmered in the air over the woods. Harry took that moment to waver, then pass out. He hit the ground without a word and everyone in the space the wall enclosed gave a shout.


	6. Chapter 5: Aftermath! Off to Hogwarts!

Chapter 5

Harry came to his senses slowly, he heard murmurs around him and his first act was to find his center. It seemed much bigger than it had before, but it glowed very dimly. I must have hit magical exhaustion, he thought, but he still heard murmurs and decided he should listen in before he woke. You can never know, he decided, and besides it had caught him a lot of info in the hospital wing. He stilled his core and made everything appear as though he still slept. Then he tuned in to the conversation around him.

"...still can't get any readings off of him. The kid has a pulse and he is definitely alive but even the most basic diagnostics pull nothing from him. We had a witch come in from the mind healers and she could only barely sense him. This kid has an occlumency barrier like she had never seen," came a voice from his left. Male, Harry decided, probably a healer. Where am I?

"We'll just have to wait for him to wake up. William said he had been doing accidental magic all night from when those people attacked the muggles. I would think he is just magically exhausted and his accidental magic must simply be continuing to protect him," came a voice Harry definitely knew from his right. What in the nine realms was Dumbledore doing here?

He heard noises from all sides that seemed to indicate a group of people settling into chairs, and then steps followed by a tent flap being opened. If no one was talking, he probably didn't have anything else to gain by faking sleep. At least it sounds like Bill took care of him. Maybe the man was a brother and not a friend. Harry guessed he would just have to see.

He opened his eyes and took in the room. He was in the tent, from the light coming in through the open flap, it seemed like mid-morning outside (Hey, our wall is still up outside). Since he was still in the tent, Harry guessed that he had just been moved inside when he blacked out last night. The entire Weasley clan was arrayed around him, some on the bench at the dining table, some on what appeared to be conjured chairs. Hermione was there too, she was sitting next to Ron and they both appeared to be generally angry.

Dumbledore sat to his right in a conjured chair. Harry guessed it was conjured anyway, nowhere else in the world had he ever seen the same kind of strangely colored overstuffed chair that Dumbledore seemed to prefer. The headmaster was looking at him curiously, and Harry felt a finger of magic skitter across the blood red barrier he put around himself. Harry gave it a moment and when the tendril didn't leave him be, he pulsed the shield out around him violently, and Dumbledore nearly fell from his chair.

Harry sighed internally. He was really, _really_ hoping it wasn't Dumbledore trying to influence him. He didn't appreciate the Veela doing it and he damn well didn't like that someone who was supposed to be looking out for him doing it. But it was Dumbledore. Harry decided to let it go, but to act if it ever happened again.

Dumbledore recovered and stared at him even more intently, but Harry felt no disturbance this time. Harry figured it was time to speak up, and he figured he'd go with a classic. The room looked like it could use some humor.

"I don't suppose anyone got the number of that hippogriff that ran me over?"

The Twins gave a chuckle, which was probably all he was going to get, and everyone else looked his way. The Twins and Bill looked pleased to see him, Ron looked unusually hostile (even by his standards), and Hermione, Charlie, Percy and all the rest looked at him with widely varying degrees of concern. Harry bet himself a galleon that Molly would be first. He couldn't quite get him to take the bet though, and of course it turned out he called it.

"Harry! We were so worried about you! How do you feel? We had a couple nice men from St. Mungos here and no one could tell us how you were! Are you hungry?"

Harry internally laughed his skinny butt off. Molly _would_ go directly for food. The woman did care, he reminded himself, she just didn't know him in the slightest.

"No Mrs. Weasley, I'm perfectly fine. A little tired maybe, a smidge of a headache, and unless I miss my guess I should probably avoid magic for a few days, but I'm fine," Harry said with warmth in his voice.

"Bloody hell, mate!," Hermione hit Ron at that, "We almost thought we lost ya or something! And what were you thinking, stunning the girls and me like that!"

Harry didn't know how to answer that without making things worse, and the cavalry came in to save him from an unexpected quarter, "Mr. Potter, before we ask you anything about last night, I was wondering if you might consent to letting one of the fine healers from St. Mungos take a look at you. Young William here," The headmaster inclined his head to Bill who gave a jaunty salute, "Informs me about the absolute depth of your accidental magic last night, and I am worried you may have done damage to your magical core."

"My core, sir?" came Harry's response. He had been thinking of his tie into magic as his core, but he thought this may be a moment he could seize to validate some of the thinking he had been doing about it.

"Yes, your core. You see magic comes from a place within all of us that we call our magical core, it's the part of a person that all of their magic flows from. When or if, perhaps, we use too much magic, or magic of too high strength, we run the risk of damaging that place inside ourselves and not being able to use magic in the same way again."

This explanation was different than the one Harry had constructed for himself. His explanation felt more correct, but who was he to disagree with a man who had been over a century old before Harry's own birth? Harry filed it all away for consideration later.

"You can have someone take a look, sir. I'm not sure what they'll find, I really only feel tired, my magic feels the same as it did before, but they can come in and take a look."

Everyone else was just looking on during this exchange, Hermione seemed delighted to learn something from the greatest wizard of the age, but hers was the only reaction.

Dumbledore stood and strode to the door, where he ducked his head out and could be heard calling, "Healer Brent! Harry has come to and invites you to scan him."

A sandy haired man entered the room, he was tall but not quite thin, Harry reflected that without years of constant hunger and neglect he might have a similar build. The man walked up to Harry and began waving his wand in a pattern Harry identified as a pentagram with a stab towards Harry in the middle.

A colored pattern flashed through the air, and then went dark grey forming a single solid line in the air. The healer took an intense look at Harry, who blinked innocently, and turned to Dumbledore.

"He still registers as... well... dead, professor. I can't get magic to so much as confirm he has a heartbeat. Clearly the kid," Harry bristled a bit at that, "is alive, and he seems okay, but I'm not seeing a thing."

At the word dead, Molly seemed to nearly faint, Hermione and Ginny also seemed to share nearly identical looks of extreme concern. The rest of them seemed to accept Harry's word. Dumbledore just seemed to twinkle absently. Harry decided to just take this one before it went any further.

"Okay, well we can all safely agree that I'm pretty much not dead," Molly almost fainted again, the Twins grinned, "and trust me when I say I'm familiar with injuries of all kinds. By Odin, I was bitten by a basilisk once. I'm fine. Now unless anyone has an objection, I would really love to leave this," Harry pulled himself into a sitting position and look about, "conjured cot?" Harry made it a question at Dumbledore who nodded briefly, "and use the loo. And if no one disagrees further, I'd really appreciate a hot cup of Earl Grey and some toast."

Molly sensed need and moved to make some food for Harry, which he took as permission to the WC and grab a shower. He got up and ducked into his room for clothes, and then took care of his business.

When he left the tent's bathroom, Healer Brent had disappeared, and he had a full English breakfast for him as well as the cup of earl he really wanted. Dumbledore looked about to leave, and the Weasleys seemed to be in packing mode.

"I'll see most of you in a week, I trust, and Harry, do try to keep better track of this," at which point he brandished Harry's familiar 11" holly companion, "It seems the elf of Mr. Barty Crouch, one Winky, took this from you at the game yesterday and while you were busy defending the Roberts family last night, conjured the dark mark above the forest nearby."

Dumbledore left with that comment, and the day moved forward. They eventually returned to the Burrow, and Harry was badgered to play Quidditch (Ron) and badgered further to sit and talk about the day before (Hermione), and finally badgered to eat enough to kill two fully grown griffins (Molly). Harry found his way through it, and despite the desperate need to, he managed to not hex a single person even once.

* * *

During the next week Harry managed to find some time alone with his new brothers. He showed the guys his copy of the _Arcanum de Manus_, and he started them on its basics. They saw the virtues of work on it, if not through his work after the match then for the fact that he had worked on magic all summer without receiving a single warning.

Bill saw a way to work even if he lost or damaged his wand during his work and the Twins, of course, saw a way to prank the hell out of some 'reformed' Death Eater's kids and not be caught by virtue of their wand signatures. Regardless of their reasons, Harry showed them his field he put up to keep the Veela influence out, and he told them about how he threw off the probe from Dumbledore.

Bill seemed incredibly impressed at that, and he explained something called occlumency, which is what kept him from going crazy from the veela during the game. He also told them about how it had an opposite, called legilimency, which could be used to see things in another's mind. Bill figured Dumbledore was just trying to see if Harry was okay, and Harry didn't disagree. That wouldn't stop him from reacting unpleasantly the next time someone tried to get in his head though. The Twins found the whole process very instructive.

Molly seemed to be trying to get Ginny and Harry in the same room and to stay there, but Harry would just read some of his transfiguration texts (he was really getting into McGonagall's chosen discipline) or straight leave the room. He had no interest in Ginny. Ron just moved farther and farther away from Harry. He was constantly demanding an explanation for Harry stunning him that night after the Cup. Harry didn't feel like giving one, so the tension ratcheted higher and higher.

Hermione was beyond overjoyed to see that Harry already had done all his homework, but was equally displeased when she was politely told to bugger off after demanding to see it. Harry initially was just confident in his work and thought it was kind of presumptuous of her to demand. As her demands increased so did Harry's ire, and the cycle just mirrored Ron's. It only got worse when she saw his books and started grabbing them for reading without asking, Harry had no problem with it in general, but when she made a grab for the _Arcanum_, he had to refuse her and her being indignant about it just made him angrier with her.

Frankly it was just a very relieved Harry that stepped onto platform 9 3/4 the following Monday. He really needed to just get lost in the castle for a while and escape the attention of everything both Weasley, and not a Twin. He had Bill make a show of shrinking his trunk and lightening. Really Harry just did it wandlessly while Bill had his wand out. Harry parted from Bill by giving him a copy of the _Arcanum_ that had served Harry so well over the past few months (Thank the All-father for copying charms). Bill had shown him a spell that could lock the book down to anyone but Harry himself, Bill had said he used the spell and a further rune cluster that achieved the same effect as a backup on his curse breaker's notebook.

Harry left the red heads and Hermione as soon as they hit the platform, and without bothering to agree on a car with anyone. He just searched around for Neville. He took the pledge he had made that summer seriously. Neville was a very good bloke, and Harry wanted to help him get better, and to get to know him better.

He found Neville just back of the center car in the train, and he found the slightly chubby boy surprisingly sitting next to another person he had really wanted to see. Susan Bones and her friend Hannah Abbot were sitting across from each other, Hannah next to a blushing Neville, as Harry entered the compartment. Harry knew of the two Hufflepuffs by reputation, and their reputations were good, so he was decidedly relaxed.

He managed to enter during what seemed to be an awkward silence, and he broke it with a quick greeting and request to sit. Neville and the ladies confirmed just as quickly and Harry started the conversation up again by asking about summers.

Susan started, "Hannah and I just hung around and got a bit of sun. There is a really nice private beach by where I live with my Aunt, and we went there most days. That and homework were about the long and short of our summer."

Neville's answer was much the same, but he substituted working in his greenhouse for laying on the beach. Harry accepted these answers and asked polite questions for a few minutes. He decided to spend this train ride just getting to know Neville and the others better. He wanted his god-brother, but he couldn't say that here and in front of these girls. He also wanted to get to know Susan better. Sirius had mentioned in their talks about Alice and Frank Longbottom a few others his parents had known and worked with when they fought Voldemort. Among the others were Susan's parent who died in the war a few months before Harry's had.

Harry was incredibly thankful to have found a room with these people in it because he was looking forward to finding new friends. He was also very thankful that Ron and Hermione hadn't found him. They each had personalities that made it hard to hang out with others. Ron was very loud, and had never heard of polite conversation or subtlety. Hermione was studious to a fault, and took her interest in her studies almost farther than Ron took his love of quidditch. They were mostly decent people, but their personalities and constant arguments were grating when trying to meet others.

Roughly half an hour of solid conversation after the train had started moving, a small girl with dirty-blond hair and long streaks from tears running down her face knocked on the door to their compartment. Harry noticed the tears first and the rest of her second, and before anyone else could make a move he was welcoming her in and moving her trunk to the shelf next to Susan's, interrupting her talking about some Hufflepuff traditions.

Harry sat her down next to him, and she sat there numbly for a moment while the rest of the room tried to find something to say. Harry's mind raced from the moment he saw her.

He didn't know a thing about girls. They still gave him the heebie jeebies from time to time, they were just very different creatures. He had been friends with Hermione for a few years now and he couldn't even pretend to have knowledge of them or her really.

For this strange girl though, he had a suspicion from somewhere that he didn't have to know everything about girls. He knew, from a deep part of him that had never left his small space under the cupboard at number 4 Privet Drive, exactly what she was feeling now. He recognized it like a veteran might recognize another from across a crowded room. He knew without even asking about the scars this girl had on her mind. He didn't know what to do for a girl, that was for sure, but he knew what to do for a soldier that had fought the same battles he had.

He slowly guided her into his lap, and to the surprise of everyone else in the room, and even himself to a certain extent, he guided her head to his shoulder and folded her into a hug.

Everything was quiet for a solid minute. Harry refused to meet anyone else's eyes, and the rest of them honestly didn't know what to say. No one in all of Hogwarts had ever seen Harry show affection to anyone. It was actually a pattern that had made its way 'round the legendary Hogwarts rumor mill. Hermione was seen hugging him from time to time, but Harry had never initiated so much as a handshake before.

The small girl's sobs started quietly, and filled the room after the minute, and she grabbed on to Harry and held on.

Susan reacted first after that, "Why are you crying?" she asked gently. Harry shot her a look that told her in no uncertain terms that she should be quiet. The unknown girl didn't say a word and just tightened her grip on Harry. After about fifteen minutes of her sobs becoming quieter and quieter she seemed to fall asleep.

Harry felt her breathing slow and even out, he looked at the others in the room and whispered to them, "Do any of you recognize her?"

Neville responded at the same volume, "I think she is a 'claw. A third year."

Harry looked down at the witch in his arms. "I know this feeling. I've been there."

He looked away from all of them. "You all know about me generally. I don't know you guys that well. I can honestly say though, that I'd like to know you better," he met each of their eyes at this, and then looked away again, "But I think you all know that I don't talk about my life. I don't know what everyone was told, I don't know what the public story is, but I was raised in a family of non-magicals in Surrey. They knew about magic but they hated it. They knew I was magical, and they hated me for it."

Harry paused here to collect his thoughts, and they gave him time because they knew they were getting something here that no one else had ever heard. Neville liked Harry and the girls were 'Puffs, they took what was happening seriously.

"I was made to work as soon as I could reliably stand to do it. I cleaned, I cooked, I did all of the gardening. It was my job. I did all of it as best I could, and when I failed they hurt me," Hannah squeaked at that, "I thought I deserved it, at first. I did my very best to be worth their love. I hated being hit, not because I was hit, but because it meant I had failed them. As the years went by, I eventually realized that it didn't matter if I did my chores right and never complained. They thought I was bad, so doing everything correctly the first made no difference to them. When I finally learned that just being me was what made them hate me, I remember feeling just like she," he indicated the girl in his arms, "looked."

"I... I'm not blind, guys. I saw your faces when I picked her up." They all looked a little sheepish at that, "I know that I don't do physical intimacy. I... it's just really hard for me. The first hug I can ever remember getting, Hermione gave to me, and today I was happy to have avoided having to share a ride with her. But I remember feeling like she looked, and I remember that when I felt that way the one thing I wanted in the entire world, the thing I wanted more than life itself, was for someone to hug me and to make it okay."

The strange girl shifted a little in her seat on Harry's lap, he knew she was awake and had been for a little while, he gave her a small squeeze to try and say it was alright. Harry continued even quieter than he had been, "How could I see someone feel what I felt and do anything less than my best to try and make it okay?"

They were all quiet after this. Susan put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and he looked at her and whispered thanks. He checked his watch, they had a few hours until they reached Hogwarts.

"Could one of you wake me in two hours?"

Neville nodded, and Harry rested his head in the hair of the witch in his arms and gently fell truly asleep with her.

After the other three in the compartment were sure Harry and his guest were actually sleeping, they each looked at each other in quiet astonishment. Neville was the first to break the silence.

"We can't tell anyone." It was a declaration, not a question, and he gave a hard look at the two girls in the compartment with him. He had known them for years, they had attended the same terrible high society functions that he had growing up, so they were friends with a fair history of shared misery. Neville also liked Harry, and he knew that Harry was worth his loyalty.

Susan responded to him first, "We're Hufflepuffs, Nev, we know loyalty. I think there is a reason we've never heard rumors of this, I think we are the first people he has ever told about this. I mean we would all have heard inside of a day if he ever told Ron."

Hannah spoke up at that, "Harry has always been nice to us. The only person he has ever been mean to is Malfoy, and let's face it, we'd all be mean to Malfoy if he focused on us even a tenth as much as he focuses on Harry."

"I've lived with Harry since first year. A lot of people made fun of me, and a lot of people have called me a... a squib. Harry never did that, he's always been really supportive. He is a really quiet guy usually. I've never seen him act like this before. He has always taken bullying really seriously, but it's usually people trying to bully him," Neville said.

They lapsed into silence after Neville added his final two cents. All three of them were thinking of the confidence Harry had displayed in them. They spent the next hour and change in silence.

At two hours since Harry fell asleep with the third year raven, Susan gently shook his shoulder until he woke. He made his way to consciousness slowly, and when he made it there he thanked Susan and gently shook the girl curled up in his lap awake in turn.

When the girl finally woke, Susan, Hannah, and Neville shared a look before Hannah spoke up for the whole group.

"Harry, we just wanted to say thank you for sharing what you shared. We want to let you know that we won't talk about what you said with anyone else. It means a lot to us. We talked a bit after you fell asleep and we just wanted you to know we're with you."

Harry genuinely smiled for the first time since he left Hogwarts the previous year, and Neville and the girls knew they made the right choice.

Harry looked to the girl who was now awake, but had made no move so far to escape his lap.

"I know you were awake too, when I told them about myself," She colored at that, but still didn't move from his lap, "it was at least as much for you as it was for them. I want you to know that I've been through a lot of darkness. I'm not demanding you say anything, but would you mind telling us your name and why you were crying?"

Her voice was timid, it had an unsteady quality, as though it wasn't used very often, "I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood. The other Ravenclaws don't like me. I... I see things sometimes, I see creatures that other people can't, I see and talk to them, and they tell me things sometimes. It's why I came here, the blibbering humdingers said that there was a boy in this compartment that could make me feel better, a boy here that could help me. The other girls make fun of me a lot, they tell me I don't belong and they take my things and hide them."

Luna clearly had a really hard time talking about it. She buried her head in Harry's chest, and it wasn't really clear anymore if her voice was wavering because of lack of use, or because of the subject matter.

"I lost my mummy when I was nine, and ever since then my daddy hasn't really been... all there, you know? He still takes care of me, but it's not the same. This year it was just too much. I was barely on the train and They were just coming at me already and my Daddy left and I just couldn't-"

Harry put his arms around her again and shushed her quietly. "The humdingers were right, Luna, I'll help you. I'm here to help, just calm down, ssh, ssh, ssh, you're not alone here anymore."

The girls and Neville especially were astounded by the side of Harry they were seeing now, and they each individually resolved to try and be there for Luna just as much as they were there for Harry. They knew Harry was not a liar, they didn't doubt him, but if they had needed proof that Harry had lived what he said it was there before them. How else could a boy who was infamous in the Hogwarts rumor mill for having never started a hug or shared a kiss become the person who was wrapping his arms around a girl whose name he had only just got?

Harry moved his arm briefly from around Luna to get a look at his watch. He then glanced outside, "I think we should change into our robes, we should be pulling into Hogsmeade station in about a half hour. Neville, you want to give the girls the compartment to change first? Looks like we should plan for some bad rain."

They took turns changing, and when the girls came back in after Harry and Neville changed, Luna took a seat in Harry's lap again, turning his face a right red much to the amusement of everyone else.

The rest of the ride went free of serious moments and tears, and as they exited Harry gave his customary greeting to Hagrid. The group of five filed into a carriage and made their way to the castle.

The closer to the castle the group got, the warmer Harry felt. There may have been a rainstorm raging outside, but as the castle approached, Harry felt like he was being welcomed somewhere with open arms. He had never really felt this feeling before, he didn't understand it, and for a moment he was terrified that it was another kind of veela influence.

He immediately close his eyes and rushed to his core, only to find an overwhelming yellow glow that was shades deeper and dwarfed his tie into magic by dozens of orders of magnitude. The soft influence of the glow flowed through the shield he had erected against the veela and any other comers, but the glow didn't seem to be making him feel anything, it seemed to just be accepting him. It took him a moment, but he finally put it together, _this was_ _Hogwarts!_

It was an oddly feminine presence, and she... she loved him. He could feel it in his bones. He knew Hogwarts had always felt like home, but this was very different. She wanted him here, she was his home. This was incredible. He opened his eyes to see of anyone else felt it, Nev, Susan and Hannah all looked around blandly. They didn't seem to be feeling anything, but Luna met his eyes and winked.

She leaned into Harry and whispered, "You can feel her, can't you? The Lady? Sometimes she talks to me too. She's taken care of me the last two years. She loves all of us."

Luna gave a smile that struck Harry as beautiful and ethereal somehow, and as she smiled the carriage ground to a halt in front of the entrance hall. They all stepped into the storm outside and made their way quickly to the entrance, and as soon as they made it inside, Harry got a pulse that felt like warning from the lady of the castle, and drew his wand and threw up a protego over the group in the same movement.

A series of red water balloons impacted on his shield, and Peeves blew a loud raspberry at them for avoiding his attack, and he refocused on a group of second years who were looking about themselves with a profound sense of wonder. Harry quickly threw a shield over them as well, and called up to the poltergeist.

"Peeves! Can I talk to you for a moment?"

He seemed to be unnerved by being politely addressed by a student, and he swooped down to Harry with a look of sly curiosity.

"What does the Harry Potty want with little old me, hmmm?"

"Peeves, I'll buy you a case of dung bombs from Zonkos if you don't target the second years here in the hall, and if you leave the first years be this year."

The castle's spirit of mischief made manifest got a pensive look on his face and responded, "Peevesy-weavesey couldn't possibly do that for less than four cases."

"Two cases."

"Two cases and a case of wet-fireworks."

"Deal."

Harry shook hands with the spirit that was almost as old as the castle itself, and when he did he felt a warm pulse from the castle as if it approved of the bargain.

The three girls and Neville all looked slightly astonished about what had just happened. For Harry it had been a very spur of the moment idea, but he felt it was a good one. He turned and resumed his walk to the great hall with the rest of his group. After three steps, the castle sent him another warning but he let Peeves have a free shot on him and didn't even turn when he felt a water balloon impact his back. Peeves gave a cackle of delight and the group passed the threshold into the great hall proper.


	7. Chapter 6: Hogwarts Again! Then a Plan

Chapter 6

Susan and Hannah split from the group as they entered, giving the rest a wave as they moved to the Hufflepuff table. Harry and Neville escorted Luna the Ravenclaw table, and she gave them each a hug, and when it was Harry's turn he whispered in her ear, "Remember, you're not alone. If people give you trouble, remember that, I have your back."

She gave him a strong smile, and kept it on as she adopted an absent expression while she sat. With that, Harry and Neville sat down at the Gryffindor table, where they were immediately approached by an irate Angelina Johnson.

"Potter, where were you on the train, no one could find you in your usual carriages and we need to talk about the team this year!"

"Hey Johnson, I'll save you the trouble, I'm quitting the team this year."

Ron had just entered when Harry made that statement, and the whole hall seemed to go quiet for a moment, before shouts burst along the red and gold table and murmurs broke out along all of the rest.

"What?"

"No!"

"You can't!"

"But the cup!"

Angelina looked at him with an expression that was equal parts confusion and murder, which Harry thought was a very interesting expression. Even Neville was looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

Harry had made the decision during the summer, he knew his grades were just average, and while that probably didn't mean a lot for him with the whole boy-who-lived deal, he wanted to be worth something someday. He wanted the extra time to study, and he _really_ wanted to not wake up at five in the morning and chase golf balls through the air.

Angelina slowly walked back and sat down again next to the other chasers, while Ron took a seat across from Harry, Hermione taking his other side. Ron looked pensive for a moment, then broke out in a big smile, "Nice joke, mate. That was a good one, quitting the quidditch team. You're a riot, you are."

The murmurs across the hall had yet to break as Harry looked at Ron and confirmed his stance, "Nope, I'm done Ron. I've taken as many injuries playing the game as I have from all of the rest of the adventures I've gotten up to here combined. I have really high hopes about living long enough to graduate."

"That's a very sensible move, Harry," Hermione intoned from his right as Ron continued to gape at him. He suppressed the desire to roll his eyes, and waved down the table at his red headed brothers. The Twins waved back, though with confused expressions, which really only made Harry smile. He owed the Twins an explanation, he wasn't so sure about anyone else though. He'd find them tonight in the common room.

It was then that McGonagall led the first years in. They seemed like a fairly standard lot, though they certainly outnumbered his own year. Harry figured there was probably a small population boom following his theoretical defeat of Voldyshorts, given the evidence in front of him. It figured, he thought as he watched a smaller, thoroughly soaked version of Colin Creevey excitedly wave to the first one who sat down the table from Harry.

The sorting hat began its song and soon enough the first years were sorted. Hagrid had sidled in around the halfway mark, throwing Harry a great wink. Dumbledore gave an unusually sane opening speech (Tuck in!) and the food appeared.

Gryffindor house ghost, know fashionably as Nearly Headless Nick, drifted up to Harry's little group and perched on the bench next to Hermione as Ron began his yearly attempt to fill his mouth with a whole roast chicken all at once. Harry found himself, not for the first time, pondering the virtues of vegetarianism because of the excess his nominal friend presented on the other side of the table.

Nick had engaged Hermione in a discussion that Harry paid no attention to, and Harry turned to Neville who appeared to be debating the comparative virtues of mashed and scalloped potatoes.

"Hey Neville, can we talk later in the common room? I have something kinda private I want to ask you about."

Neville, having made the decision to make no decision and put a bit of both on his plate turned to his friend nervously, "Okay Harry... It's... It's not bad is it?"

"I don't think so. I just want to talk."

"Okay then," Neville turned his attention back to the potato issue as a cry of "House Elves?!" came from Hermione next to them.

Harry had a really strong feeling he wouldn't like wherever that conversation was going, but he had been having another emotional day (It seemed to be happening to him more and more lately, he was wishing really hard for it to not be a new trend) and he just didn't have it in him to bother with something else.

Eventually the dinner foods (which Hermione was eyeing with anger) started slowly disappearing and being replaced by deserts. Harry served himself some delightful lemon treacle tart, and as his fork was about to pierce the tart, an extremely loud BANG issued across the hall from the entrance hall.

Everyone jumped (Harry merely ate his tart, growing up with the Dursleys taught him not to jump for anything less than an incoming fist) and turned towards the hall, where silhouetted against the lightning and rain they saw outside and reflected on the roof of the hall, was a figure that looked human by only the barest of margins.

Dumbledore, who had been moving from his seat to the lectern at the head of the hall when the door crashed open, called for attention, "I would like to take this opportunity to introduce to all of you your new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Alastor Moody."

Murmurs filled the hall again as the figure from the door seemed to walk forward, every other step sounding out with a resounding wooden THUNK. As the man got closer to the great hall he was slowly illuminated, his features serving to inspire nearly as much dread as his appearance in the doorway just a moment before had.

His false leg was the first thing Harry noticed. It looked like the base of tree, Harry felt sure he could see where roots had once connected to it. It had electric blue runes apparently carved into it, and the runes seemed to pulse and move around the leg, slowly as he moved the stump and quickly for as long as the leg touched the ground. The next feature Harry's eyes were drawn to was Moody's clearly false left eye. It was the same electric blue as the runes carved into the leg, and it seemed to move wildly around at a dizzying speed.

Moody's face was a poster child for the possibilities of using dark magic as a method of cosmetic enhancement. He had a massive chunk missing from his nose, which also seemed to have been broken a number of times and reset by someone with only a cursory knowledge of what the human face should look like. He had a deep scar that crossed from the middle of his forehead to his right cheek, crossing over his good eye.

Nearly every inch of exposed skin on the man seemed to have been burned, cut, or sprayed with a corrosive substance, and Harry could understand every inch of it. The same book that influenced him the night of the World Cup had spoken highly of one Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody. He was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, dark wizard catcher alive. That was a hell of a statement too, as dark wizard catchers tended to not live long unless they were very, very good.

Moody stumped his way up to the staff table, and took a seat at the end of the table next to Hagrid and opposite Snape. As he pressed into his seat he gave a gruesome smile, and a jaunty wave which seemed to reveal only more terrifyingly mistreated skin.

His appearance was either well timed, or put many off of their appetites as the food disappeared shortly after his appearance. With all the food gone and even Ron sated by the meal, Dumbledore once more mounted the lectern.

"Welcome to another grand year at Hogwarts. We are glad to see you all here again, safe and sound in these hallowed halls. I have the usual announcements to begin, The forbidden forest, as many of you will recall, is entirely forbidden. Mr. Filch has deemed several more items unsuitable for use on school grounds and particularly in the halls. For a complete list of all undesirable objects, please see his office. Magic practice is to be confined to classrooms and staff supervised activities only, magic use in the hallways is discouraged and may result in penalties."

Harry had tuned out somewhere in the neighborhood of the word 'usual', and was currently wondering how difficult it would be that night to tear his brothers from their normal beginning of term festivities. His attention was recaptured in its entirety by the aged headmaster's next sentence, however.

"It is my most sad duty to also inform you all of the cancellation of the normal inter-house quidditch tournament this year."

Roars sounded furiously from every table in the hall, save the one occupied by the staff. Ron looked near fainting and the Twins appeared to have summoned beater's bats from somewhere and were waving them in the air belligerently. Dumbledore raised his wand and delivered a cannon blast from it to re-establish a bit of order.

"The tournament will be suspended in favor of an older tradition, that of the Tri-Wizard Tournament," gasps sounded form around the hall at this news (along with many whispers of 'the triwizard what?'), "emissaries from the esteemed schools of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving here at Hogwarts in a few short weeks and from our collected student body three champions will be called forward, one to represent each school. The competition will test the true mettle of the champions, and will feature three events taking place over the rest of the year, the winner will receive 1,000 galleons, and eternal glory. Due to the extreme personal danger to each of the champions, there will be an age limit placed on entry to the tournament. No champion may be below the age of majority, seventeen years, by the time entry is opened, the day before the ancient wizarding holiday of Samhain," Harry could feel the Twin's disappointment at that, they were only a month or so off, "The champions will be picked by an entirely impartial judge, so there can be no question of the validity of the selection."

Dumbledore took a moment to pause here, and looked around the hall, his eyes twinkling at full force, "I believe I have now given you enough to consider. I will release you to your prefects to lead you to your houses. Good night!"

Harry thought Dumbledore had the right of it, he had some things he had wanted to steal a few moments of his friend's time for, but he figured with this unexpected news he may as well take his chance. He stood and tapped Neville on the shoulder, inclining his head to the Twins. Neville stood and followed him to where Fred and George were loudly declaiming to anyone who would listen that they were entering regardless of an age restriction.

Harry managed to tap both of them on the shoulder and quietly ask for a minute of each of their times before they hit the common room. They each nodded their assent, and the four guys headed off.

Harry, between his own excellent sense of direction and the Marauder's Map, thought he had a pretty good handle on how to navigate Hogwarts, but with his new connection to the Lady Hogwarts, his sense of the school rose to new heights. He led the three guys following him on a merry path that brought them to the portrait of the Fat Lady a full five minutes before the next person. Even the Twins who had two years more experience in the castle than Harry and Neville seemed to have a hard time keeping track of their route.

As they got there Fred spoke the password for the entrance to Gryffindor tower (got it off a prefect downstairs, he said) and they retired to a set of chairs in an alcove. Harry turned to the Twins first.

"Guys, I just wanted to talk to you first. I guess it doesn't matter a heck of a lot now, but I am quitting the quidditch team," the Twins shared a dubious look, but allowed Harry to continue, "To be honest, I really only joined in the first place because I thought if I declined McGonagall would just expel me. I'm not a huge fan of the game, I just like flying. I played seeker because I can fly well, but also because I was almost not even a part of the team. I just flew about and grabbed a shiny thing. I decided over the summer that I'd quit and spend more time on my studies. My marks are very middle of the road, and if I want to live a decent life past graduation, studying is about all I've got."

Fred started, "I... Well I guess we understand. We can't hold it against you. We know how mad about practice Ollie was, and we know Angelina would be feeling the pressure this year."

George picked up the thread of their thought, "We can't hold a grudge over it, I mean we like you, but more than that, we understand spending more of your time on your classes. Fred and I talked it over for ourselves last year-"

"- and if we didn't already have a plan for ourselves," Fred continued, "We would have considered quitting too."

"We just wish you had told us earlier," they finished together.

"I'm sorry guys. You know about the World Cup, it kinda slipped my mind," Harry said.

Fred grinned and George grimaced, they both nodded and Fred said, "We meant what we said that day. We have your back, Harry."

Harry flashed a genuine smile, "Thank you both."

The twins nodded again, then stood and departed for (Harry assumed) the location of Lee Jordan, wherever that was.

Neville who had been sitting there for the whole conversation, looked over at Harry and said, "You know me Harry, I'm not a fanatic. I was just surprised, I figured you liked it, I mean you're quite good at it, I guess we all just assumed."

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Neville. I just realized this summer that if I want something good, I can only rely on myself to get it. My ability to use magic is a route to happiness in the future, so my studies are important."

Neville nodded at that, and Harry changed topics, "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about though, Neville, I just wanted to say that... well I guess I wanted to ask after your parents."

Neville immediately stiffened and looked at Harry very strangely. Whatever he had expected Harry to ask about, this was clearly not it. Harry had no idea how to interpret the reaction, so he charged ahead, "I just wanted to ask because I found out this summer that your mum is my godmother. My mum was apparently your godmother as well. I know you have never talked about them, but I found out what happened, and I was wondering if I could get your permission to maybe visit them someday. Our parents were really good friends before mine died, and I think if things had been better we would have been raised as brothers. You and Sirius Black are really my closest family members. It's part of why I said I wanted to get to know you and Susan better this year. All of our parents were really good friends and we all probably would have been raised together."

Neville looked like he couldn't decide on a reaction after hearing what Harry had said. He looked at his hands, and then slowly drew his wand. Harry took his turn as stiffening slightly when Neville did it. Neville finger his wand as he slowly responded, "It's... It's really hard, you know? Mum and Dad are in the long term care ward at St. Mungos. They have a nice room just down the hall from Lockhart. I visit them every summer and as much as I can otherwise, but even after all the years it's been, they still don't react to me, or to anyone else for that matter. Sometimes... sometimes I think my mum might recognize me. I can see it in her eyes, you know? There is a flicker there, like she might still be in there, but buried under..." Neville paused and to Harry it seemed like he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

Harry looked down at the wand in Neville's hands, several things he had noticed since first year and learned recently lined up in his mind, "That's your father's wand, isn't it?"

Neville nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the wood.

"May I?" Harry asked in a whisper, his hand extended towards the wand.

Neville placed it in Harry's palm like he was moving a holy object. As soon as Harry touched it, he reached down inside himself to his center, and extended a tendril of magic out to the wand, feeling the distinct magical vibration it gave out, and its magical signature.

Harry explained to Neville how during his final week at the Weasley's he talked Molly into letting Bill and the Twins escort him to Diagon Alley, and while he was there for his school stuff, he visited Ollivander's shop. He had talked to the ancient wand crafter for hours about magical foci. His problem had been that using a wand was not helpful to him (he left out exactly why for later), and he had asked after alternate foci. Ollivander had told to him more about the adage that the wand chooses its wizard, telling Harry that it all had to do with the way magic flowed through a focus, no matter what the focus was. Ollivander told Harry of the staff masters of the Norwegian fjords, who had never moved into wands, and of Japanese schools of magic that focused their abilities through specific repetitive hand motions, among other cultures. (He also discussed the _Arcanum_ Harry had read, expounding on the methods used by the French monks, how did that creepy old man know these things?) The one thing that remained constant with foci, he said, was that the signature of the focus had to be nearly identical to the signature of the user, the closer the vibrations were to harmony, the better the fit. That conversation had given Harry a number of excellent ideas on how to better his own spell casting, and had started Harry on the path to creating of his own focus. But Harry explained to Neville how he could use that knowledge here and now to help his friend.

Harry, having felt the signature of the wand, laid a hand on Neville and extended another tendril of magic.

"Bloody Hell, Neville!," Harry said with a start, "Never let another person ever tell you that you are a squib!"

Neville looked alarmed at Harry's outburst and asked quickly, "Why?"

"Nev, you have an incredibly strong signature, you are a powerful wizard. You've been having trouble because your signature is almost completely opposed to the signature of the wand you've been using!" Neville looked really concerned at that, and more than a bit sad, so Harry immediately clarified, "Nev, it doesn't mean that you are the opposite of your dad or anything like that, your signature says nothing about you in the slightest. It only has to do with how you individually touch magic. Maybe your dad was better with charms, while you clearly are the best with plants in our whole year. But this explains why you've always had trouble! The fact that you've been able to make it through classes at all with this wand shows how strong you are, you are a bloody powerhouse, Nev!"

Harry smiled widely at his friend, who look unbelieving and confused at the declaration.

"Let me try to explain it differently, let's say that there are two kinds of people, folks who can fly, and folks who can swim, okay?," Neville nodded, "People who can fly use feathers for their magic, people who can swim use scales from fish for magic. Feathers are nearly useless underwater, they are just out of their element, they get all clumpy and just can't do anything, and on the opposite side, scales are useless in the air, they dry out and lose all of their magical properties. Are you with me?"

Neville thought the image Harry was using was strange, but he got it so far.

"Neville, your entire time here at Hogwarts, you have been swimming around, trying to use a feather for your magic, and making it work."

At that, Neville sat up and nodded. "Okay Harry, but Gran would never let me get a new wand, and I don't want to get rid of my Dad's. It's... well, you understand."

"I do. I really do. I have nothing from my parents, I know exactly how much it would mean, but I guarantee you that your mum and dad would both have wanted you to do your best, and not hold yourself back by using a wand that isn't suited to you. You don't have to throw your dad's wand away, keep it, let it remind you always of the one of the people who brought you into the world."

Neville looked hard at the wand, Harry handed it back and Neville's stare never wavered. He turned it over in his hands, and rotated it slowly along its axis as if he were memorizing every detail of it.

"Okay, Harry. Will you help me get one?"

"Of course. Getting to Diagon Alley will be tricky, but if we talk to the Twins and arrange a suitable distraction, I'm certain we could use the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks to get there."

Harry had been planning on going anyway, he really needed to pick Ollivander's brain again for a way to make a suitable focus for himself. It wasn't that his wand didn't work, it just hampered his wandless magic which he was much more comfortable with. If he could find something to support his wandless style, he could cast much more easily as foci generally made casting take less energy and made it more, well, focused. Foci increase focus, who knew?

Harry decide to bring the conversation back to its original topic, "If you want, as long as we're leaving school grounds, we could take an hour and kip over to St. Mungos, and visit your parents."

Neville looked Harry in the eye at that and stated simply, "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

Harry and Neville had spent a long time in the corner, and with their conversation done decided to just head up to bed. They'd get their schedules the next morning and life would start over at Hogwarts. They had a month, roughly, to plan their excursion to Diagon Alley and they'd meet the challenge when it came.


	8. Chapter 7: Moving (in) Diagon Alley

Chapter 7

Harry desperately wanted to just fade into his normal Hogwarts routine, albeit with the subtraction of quidditch and a bit if extra time spent in the library. He had enough shakeups in the last year to deserve a break he figured. Hell, Harry thought, he hadn't gone more than about six months in a stretch in the last few years without having his life at risk. Was it crazy to ask for just a regular year?

The short answer was yes, and the long answer involved a fair bit of cursing.

The next morning Harry and Neville began a new tradition for them, and took seats at the Ravenclaw table in the morning, sitting next to Luna who looked ecstatic to see them. She had some of the most curious breakfast habits either of them had ever seen (A sandwich with pancakes for bread, and porridge and jam for filling?) but she was a delight, and Harry and Neville both enjoyed her discussion of the fantastic creatures she interacted with. She had a very dreamy countenance, and the guys could see why people would think she was weird, but she was bubbly and if they were honest, just a pleasure to talk with.

When McGonagall made an appearance that morning with schedules, the guys bid Luna good day and good luck, and moved back to the table of the lions. Ron shot them a strange and aggressive look between his fifth and sixth sausage.

Their classes were mostly the same as they had been the year previous. They all just kept their heads down in potions, predicted their own gruesome deaths in divinations, potted and harvested plants in herbology, and spent care for magical creatures trying to not get killed by Hagrid newest pets (why, in the name of the All-Father, had Hagrid thought breeding a manticore and a fire crab a good idea? And how would that work anyway? Harry shuddered at the mental images.).

Transfiguration and charms were different for Harry, but only because he finally knew what he was doing. Harry made sure he let Hermione get all of the spells first, if only because she would flip out if he actually showed his skill.

DADA was one of the two classes that met with a large change, and it was due entirely to Moody. Moody, as Lee put it one day, really _knew_, man. His presentation on the unforgivables was impressive, but for a class with survivors of attacks by them, remarkably insensitive. Harry kept a steadying hand on Neville's shoulder the whole lesson long.

Harry didn't twitch when it was his turn under Moody's imperius, which seemed to frighten more than it impressed, but like he had with the Twins during the World Cup, Harry expanded his shield to cover Neville. Neville seemed as surprised as everyone else when that happened, but it lead to Harry showing Neville the book he got that summer and helping him and the Twins at the same time with the concepts in the book.

Harry met with them all in the library, and they had a much easier time picking up the basics than he had, simply by virtue of being able to cast spells without worrying about getting caught using under aged magic. Given the ridiculous ease with which he taught the three of them wandless magic, he guessed he could understand why the ministry had outlawed the book.

The twins actually had wands that they could effectively use, so Harry left them to their own devices. The only thing he showed them after they got the hang of it was a few developments he had made to the shield he put up to protect himself from the veela and anyone using legilimency. They left his brief lessons for parts and pranks unknown after that.

Harry went on to show Neville how he had been faking using his wand in class. In Harry's experience his wandless was a lot easier (which was why he was working so hard to get a focus that would actually help him) than his wanded magic, so he often just waved his wand in the way the professor said they should, and channeled his magic through his hand avoiding the wand entirely.

Neville's very first transfiguration class after the Harry showed him it, he was the first person to figure out the spell after Harry and Hermione, which was quite an accomplishment given that Harry was practicing sixth year spells on his own time and Hermione was, well, Hermione. Harry would forever cherish the memory of Neville's face when he finally got proof that he _was_ in fact a very good wizard.

History of Magic was the incredibly surprising final class to undergo a large change. On the first day they came in, they found a professor in the room who _wasn't_ dead. Everyone's mind was blown. Almost everyone actually showed up the first day, (Ron brought a pillow shrunk to the side of a matchbox that he actually had out on the desk before he realized there might be a change in the class) only two people were missing. After they had all gotten over having a living professor and settled down, the man at the front introduced himself. He wore a set of black robes and had dark brown eyes and grey hair, he was overall unremarkable, but his stern personality filled the classroom and made up the difference.

"My name is Bartemius Crouch, and I work at the Ministry of Magic as head of the department of International Magical Cooperation. I will be showing up several times from now until the Triwizard tournament begins. I am a very busy man, and my time is very precious, I'm responsible for coordinating a number of events that will involve all three schools that are coming here to be in the tournament. As such, I won't be assigning any homework or assignments to be turned in," The class cheered at that, "BUT!", Crouch said, raising his voice over the class, quieting it, "But that does not mean that you can afford to not pay attention. I'll be giving you lessons on a couple aspects of the history of the tournament itself, as well as a detailed history of a few ancient Celtic and Scottish wizarding traditions."

Crouch went on, over the next two months before the arrival of the other two schools, to describe why the tournament was to begin on Samhain. Samhain, in the Gaelic tradition, was one of the most important days of the year. It happened midway between the summer and winter solstices, and it represented to ancient Irish and Scottish wizards the beginning of winter. When the ancestor wizards of the Scottish tradition that Hogwarts was founded on were still herders, Samhain was the traditional time to meet and bring in the herds for slaughter to prepare for winter. Samhain represented a time of beginnings, and it was a time when the wizards in the days of yore communed with nymphs and dryads. The fey was closer to the world the wizards inhabited, so it was a time when pacts were struck for the use of natural areas of great magical power that had initially belonged to the fey, areas like the one Hogwarts was built on. It was also a time when some of the ancient dark wizard killed mundanes, and had used their deaths to fuel blood rituals.

Bonfires were also traditionally lit, and powerful rituals were performed over them to offer good fortune to the participants. Crouch referenced that it was a time when if the potion _Felix Felicis_ was brewed it was made even stronger.

Harry had never known more about the wizarding world, and he actually was impressed by the history of magic class and Crouch. He was looking forward to being a part of those traditions here at Hogwarts this year.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall had been noticing a number of strange things during the year so far. She wondered if it was because things had changed during the summer, or if she was just on her toes more than usual because she was concerned about the tournament. Most of what she noticed seemed to surround the son of her two favorite students, and she wasn't sure if she should be worried more than usual about one Harry Potter.

The changes that she had noticed started before the semester even began. During the opening feast Harry had seemed distant from the youngest Weasley boy and Hermione. He also seemed closer than usual to Longbottom. During the feast she had even heard rumors that Harry was quitting the quidditch team, which she really didn't understand. The boy was like his father, a plain natural on a broom, there was no reason why he would leave the team. She didn't think anything of it though.

The next morning though, the things that had seemed slightly odd at the feast were more pronounced. Potter and Longbottom were sitting next to that airy Ravenclaw (Lovegood was it?), not even at the Gryffindor table! There was no rule against it, but Potter was a born Gryffindor if she had ever met one, and he seemed to be growing farther and farther apart from the rest of the house. Johnson, who she had given the captaincy of the quidditch team to now that Wood had graduated, had come to her that day and confirmed the rumors, Potter said that he was done with quidditch! Ron Weasley looked at Potter with open hostility that morning.

It kept happening too. Every morning Potter and Longbottom were sitting with Lovegood, and occasionally Susan Bones and the Abbot heiress joined them at the Ravenclaw table with the girl. (Filius had seemed incredibly happy about that development for some reason)

It would have been one thing if the two boys had just started eating breakfast with new people, but after the first week both of them had gotten significantly better in class. Almost to the point where she believed the boys to be cheating based on their incredible leaps ahead in skill level. If she hadn't heard Irma say that both of them had been in the library almost constantly when out of class, she would have investigated it. And Irma said they weren't even spending time with Granger, Potter seemed like he was growing away from her as well.

When she heard that from Irma, she began paying more attention to the boys in her class. Longbottom seemed to be trying his hardest and actually getting somewhere with it, but unless she missed her guess entirely, Potter was... bored. She spent the entire third week's classes watching him, and as they went over theory he was doodling instead of taking notes, and as they got to the practical section, Potter's eyes were glued to Granger. While he watched her he mumbled the words and idly waved his wand, but as soon as she accomplished the day's task, he did the transfiguration on his first real try and in one move.

Potter seemed to be hiding his skill. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why, so at the conclusion of her last lesson with him that week she kept him after class. In previous years, Weasley and Granger would have look nervous for him and waited, but Weasley seemed pleased he was being held back after class, and Granger looked concerned for a moment, then simply packed up and left. Potter shared a long look with Longbottom who packed and then waited outside the door patiently.

She walked to Potter's desk and stood before him as he packed his last quill. When he was done he looked up at her, and she said to him, "Potter, don't be worried, you're not in any trouble, I just wanted to test you in something for a moment."

She had been thinking about how to see if he was performing at his real level, and she had an idea that she felt was perhaps a little Slytherin. The next week's lessons were switching spells, fairly basic for most full grown wizards, but their first introduction was often very difficult for the students. She conjured a pair of tea cups and set them on the desk in front of the boy.

"Could you switch the handles of these two cups for me."

Potter looked at her nervously, as if he wasn't sure he believed her that he wasn't in trouble, he waved his wand and the two handles seamlessly switched, despite being different colors and different sizes, which often tripped students up as they learned the spell. She only narrowly hid her surprise. Minerva waved her wand and undid Potter's work, then kept going forward with her plan.

"Could you please transfigure the cup on the right into a mouse and the cup on the left into a kitten?"

Potter again gave her a look of ill-concealed worry, but after two waves of his wand, a kitten was busy on the table before her playing with a mouse. She had an even harder time hiding her surprise. This was OWL level work. Just reading ahead wasn't enough to be able to do this. Potter had real skill to be able to manage this, especially at the beginning of his fourth year. She wanted to stop but Potter hadn't even hesitated when she asked him to do it. She really wanted to see how far the boy could go. Two swishes or her wand later there were two formless lumps of clay on the table before him.

"Potter, could you turn one of these into a piglet, and the other into a full grown pig, and when you're done vanish the pair."

With three movements of his wand, Potter had just gotten at a minimum an Acceptable on his NEWT. Minerva was stunned, and her face showed it. Potter looked actively afraid when he saw her shock.

"Potter, please tell Longbottom to head to his next class. I'll write you a pass, but I would like to have a discussion with you in my office."

Potter did as she asked, and while he was doing it she moved into her office which adjoined the classroom. Before he could get into the office, she opened the locked drawer in the filing cabinet behind her desk and quickly swallowed a wee dram of the fire whisky she hid there to calm herself. Not even James had been this good with transfiguration. She would have been hard pressed to duplicate his feat at that age, and her OWL and NEWT scores were second only to Dumbledore's record setting scores. She had no idea how he had come by this skill, but she had been watching him closely. He could do it. He did it. She closed the drawer and looked at it lost in thought until she heard the office door open behind her. She turned to him.

"Ma'am? Did I do something wrong? I know I haven't been paying the most attention in class. I'm sorry for it but I've done a lot of studying ahead so I understand everything we're doing pretty well."

Minerva smiled at the small nervous boy. He seemed so much smaller than James did at that age. Maybe she would talk to Poppy about that. "Take a seat Harry. You've done nothing wrong, I just want to talk to you about how you've been doing in class lately. I can tell you've been studying ahead, but did you have any idea that with just the work you did in the last twenty minutes you could go as far as passing your NEWT for transfiguration?"

There was no deceit in the expression of pure surprise on Harry's face.

"I knew I was ahead, professor, but it all seemed so easy and made so much sense, I just figured it was supposed to. I mean I've gotten some small conjurations and some transfigurations to last for a few days, but nothing permanent..." the boy seemed lost in his thoughts and didn't notice that Minerva's own expression mirror Potter's from the moment before.

"Harry, you've been able to do some conjurations that have lasted for days?"

"Yes ma'am. I lost a quill before history last week, I just conjured one before class quickly and it lasted until the past weekend. Is that not normal?"

Minerva sat back and thought dreamily of the bottle of firewhisky just a few feet behind her. A conjuration that lasted days. And he had done it so casually. In order to make a conjuration permanent one needed to add a small piece to the incantation as it was cast, but it required a lot of extra power and a different understanding of the spell.

Permanent conjurations were a branch of transfigurations that were only ever taught as a person went for their mastery. Some masters couldn't do it, she could barely manage it, but the way you could tell if a student was capable of it was if a conjuration of theirs lasted for over 24 hours. And Harry here just made a quill before class that he used until the weekend.

Prodigy barely covered it.

"Mr. Potter, Harry, why are you hiding your skill in class? I've been watching you, and Professor Flitwick has been making comments that he suspects you've been doing the same thing in his class, you seem to always wait until someone else has done the day's work correctly, then you finish."

Potter looked a little guilty and a little angry. "Professor, have you ever noticed how Ron or Hermione act if I do something better than them? The first week back, I accidentally didn't wait for someone else to finish and just performed a summoning charm the first time. We weren't even supposed to be able to do it yet, we had just finished the opening theory that day. Ron got incredibly jealous and after class started whispering to people about how I was a cheater, and Hermione spent four straight hours in the library studying before the next charms class so she could be the first one done again. I've been annoyed by them a bit this summer, but when that happened I just didn't know what to think."

Minerva thought about the students in question. Hermione was so smart, Minerva had been overjoyed to get her sorted into Gryffindor. But the girl was incapable of being in second place. She couldn't handle losing, Minerva suspected it had to do with a friendless childhood. Ronald was in the lower half of his year, and the boy clearly had a jealous streak a mile wide. She could understand Harry's position, but maybe if she kept it quiet she could still help Harry see his potential. Hmmm...

"Harry, how would you like some much more advanced tuition in transfiguration? If you were willing to come in after normal class hours we could go over material you might find actually challenging, and if you keep advancing, you could probably test for a mastery before you graduate."

Harry seemed happy to donate a few extra hours for tougher instruction, and Minerva could only be happy to give it. Here was a real prodigy, and she had the chance to watch him develop. This would be a real joy. After Potter (Harry, she amended in her mind, the boy was advanced enough to warrant a closer relationship, they'd be spending a lot of extra time together anyway) left she poured herself a glass of her hidden emergency fire whisky. She didn't have any more classes today, and she needed to celebrate. This would be a wonderful year.

* * *

By the time the first Hogsmeade weekend rolled around at the end of September, Harry had spoken to Professor Flitwick as well, and while he wasn't as good with charms as he was with transfiguration, the half-goblin was more than happy to give him extra instruction. Possibly more importantly for Harry, Flitwick had allowed him access to Hogwarts' enchantment laboratory.

With access to those labs he had a space where he could consistently keep his work and try to develop his own focus specifically for himself. It was exactly what he needed, it had tools for working metal, wood, leather, you name it. It even had an ancient enchanted loom made specifically for working with Acromantula silk. In a word it was perfect.

Harry woke early for the weekend. He needed to head to Zonkos as soon as possible, so he could meet his end of the bargain he had struck his first day back with Peeves. After that he needed to get to the Three Broomsticks as soon as he could again. He'd talked Fred and George into buying a few kegs of butter beer early in the day so Madam Rosmerta would be busy somewhere else and he and Neville could slip away to Diagon.

The plan went off without a hitch, and before nine in the morning, Harry and Neville were in Diagon Alley and standing in front of Ollivander's.

"You ready, Nev?", Harry asked. He was really happy to be able to help his friend. He was also pleased to be able to see Ollivander again (Did the man even have a first name, he wondered idly) to ask him about materials used in foci. The strange old man had briefly mentioned a tribe of wizards in Central Africa that used specially tanned Tebo hide to for shields they used as foci. Harry thought that if Ollivander knew anything about the process, he could make himself a leather fore-arm cover, like a bracer. Harry could disguise it as a fancy wand holder, but use it as a focus.

Neville seemed nervous, but he looked at Harry and said, "Yes. When you showed me I can do wandless magic that was the first time I ever felt like I could be a great wizard. I need a wand that matches me, I can't just pretend to use one."

A few moments later the clock tower in the alley struck nine times, and Ollivander opened his door and beckoned the boys inside, changing the sign in his window to open before heading back behind the counter. His soft voice rang out in the quiet of the store, "Mr. Longbottom. You never did come to get your own wand, I expected I'd see you a few years ago. You went with a family wand, correct? We'll let's see what fits you. Your wand hand, right or left?"

Neville spoke with confidence Harry wasn't sure he felt, "Right, sir."

The same strange tape measure that had measured Harry three years before left the counter seemingly of its own volition, and Ollivander silently began moving around his shelves of wands, coming back with three boxes.

The first two (ash and birch, both dragon heartstring) didn't make any real reaction, but the third, 13", cherry wood, and unicorn tail hair lit from the inside with a brown glow that spoke to Harry of growing things. Harry was actually sure for a moment that he smelt fresh dirt.

"Ah, excellent, we've discovered your match. Refreshingly simple, wasn't it, Mr. Potter?"

Neville looked at the two of them strangely, Ollivander continued, "Mr. Potter tried most of my selection of wands before he found one that worked, and now that he has found himself using wandless magic, he has found that his wand doesn't meet his requirements."

Neville nodded in understanding, but turned to Harry, "Yeah, I was wondering about that. Harry showed me how to do the same kind of wandless magic he did, but in the end using a wand just works better for me. I don't know what it is."

Ollivander gave a dry smile and replied, "Yes, that's not altogether unsurprising. Magic use has very deep roots in one's mental state, more specifically with the intent one uses to drive themselves. Mr. Potter, you were raised by non-magicals, were you not?" Harry gave a nod, he hadn't heard this before and wondered himself about it, "You undoubtedly have read non-magical fiction, likely some that included magic, and you were influenced by that understanding. Something I have noticed over the last few decades, children raised by non-magicals often have an understanding of magic not based specifically around the use of wands, they have to be trained into it. It is, I believe, the reason why Mr. Potter's book was made illegal by the ministry, for wizards of the wand based tradition wandless magic was difficult and unique. They were embarrassed when pure blood wizards were unable to do it even half as easily as a first year child from entirely non-magical stock."

This made sense to the two boys, and seemed to both of them like something that the ministry would do. Harry took a moment to glance at his watch, it was past time for them to be on their way. He tapped Neville's shoulder, and inclined his head to the door. Ollivander caught the gesture, and before they could leave produced a book from below the counter. The book looked more like an old style field journal, it had pages sticking up in different parts and seemed to contain sample of feathers and leather.

"Mr. Potter, I was speaking nothing less than the truth when I said we could expect great things from you. These are my notes, taken in my youth, about the process used in the creation of the Tebo leather foci we spoke of during your last visit. Use them well."

Harry collected the journal, and the boys left the shop, heading back to the leaky cauldron under heavy glamors. They made their way to St. Mungos, though they didn't have much time. Harry and Neville had agreed beforehand that they had to be back in Hogsmeade before noon, and after Ollivander's they had less time than they would have liked.

Neville introduced Harry to his mum and dad. Alice smiled unfocused but widely when the boys sat with her, and Frank had never moved his gaze from the window he had been staring out. They talked about Hogwarts, they mentioned the triwizard tournament, and talked about their still-new friendship with Luna. They left soon after, and as they stood before the public floo station in St. Mungo's, Harry put a hand on Neville's shoulder.

"Thanks, Nev."

Neville gave a tight and emotional nod before stepping into the fireplace and calling out 'The Three Broomsticks!'. The boys arrived back in Hogsmeade and split up. Neville needed some things from Scrivenshaft's, and Harry needed to pay up with Peeves before he pranked some helpless firstie.


	9. Chapter 8: Halloween, The Cursed Day

Chapter 8

Earlier that morning, Harry had made a mistake. In his haste to get out of the castle and get to Zonko's early, he hadn't paid the slightest attention to his surroundings. So when Angelina Johnson led the rest of the chaser line and a number of others to him at the breakfast table he hadn't listened to them and just gave a rushed, "Yeah, sure," and ran out of the great hall to get past Filch as quickly as he could.

He did catch the first carriage into the village, but he missed the roughly quarter of Gryffindor who, led by the captain of the quidditch team, all asked Harry to meet with them for lunch at the Three Broomsticks to talk about his leaving the Quidditch team, and how he had been more and more distant lately.

The Gryffindors were concerned because Harry was finally costing them more points in Potions than he made them anywhere else. McGonagall and Flitwick had been guiding Harry toward twin masteries, and had stopped being concerned about points around him. Moody rarely gave points, Trelawney didn't, and Crouch wasn't a professor and so couldn't. Hagrid gave him a few for his attention in class, but without Harry's performance in quidditch, his lack of care about points resulted in him was finally becoming an active drain on the house.

Beyond that, Harry had stopped eating meals with them, and he had taken Neville with him. The two had begun eating all of their meals at the Ravenclaw table with Luna, and outside of meals they spent most of their free time with her in the library. Free time for Harry had also taken a dive in general as he spent a significant amount of time working with McGonagall and Flitwick, which no one save Neville and Luna knew about.

The group had taken a large booth and several tables at the Three Broomsticks, and they noticed when Harry followed Neville out of the fireplace, shook his hand, and set back off to the castle. Johnson was furious, and Hermione and Ron (he was halfway through the food he had ordered from Madam Rosmerta) were both incredibly suspicious of where he had come from and why they had not been invited along.

Hermione and Ron had not failed to notice the growing distance between themselves and Harry. He had yet to play a single game of chess with Ron, and whenever Hermione had tried to check Harry's work she had been rebuffed (and on one occasion when she had made a move for a transfiguration essay of his anyway, Harry had told her to bugger off in those exact words).

Hermione was bothered because Harry had stopped needing her help. She too, spent a week watching him in class, and he wasn't even paying attention! Then after doodling the whole lecture away, he seemed to always wait for her or Neville to finish, then the first time he actually tried to do it instead of just muttering and idly waving his wand, he got it perfect! It drove her mad! She spent even more time in the library studying and practicing after that, she saw _him_ there a lot too, and even with all her practice she could never match his getting it right the first time. The way he acted, it was like all of it was just review. Every new thing they learned seemed like something he had learned before, and he was just biding his time until class got out.

She... She began to suspect him of.. of using _dark magic_ to get to where he was. When they had gotten Lockhart to write them a pass to the restricted section she had seen some hints of blood rituals that might give a boost in intelligence. She didn't know how to check, and she wasn't sure, but it seemed like she just didn't know him at all anymore. She didn't really know what he was capable of doing, ethically and literally.

The Gryffindors in general had growing doubts about him. They hadn't quite felt this way since the heir of Slytherin thing about two years ago. Watching Harry snub them (whether or not he was really aware he had) really set them off. Johnson had talked a lot of them into confronting him, demanding he be seeker again the next year and demanding he keep his head down further around Snape. And here they saw that he had broken the rules again, he had left Hogsmeade entirely, and he had brought another lion with him when he did it!

The group dispersed shortly after they watched Harry head out, apparently in a hurry. Some wanted to go after Longbottom and demand an answer, but they knew that Longbottom was practically a Hufflepuff in his loyalty. Harry was one of Neville's only friends, so they knew Malfoy would praise Gryffindor before he gave Harry up. They were angry, but before they all split Johnson cautioned the group to keep their anger from the Twins, Harry was very close to the pranksters and they didn't know how they would react.

* * *

Harry actually didn't even notice that most of the Gryffs were acting coldly towards him, He didn't eat with them, and he had gotten to the point where the only time he spent in the tower was to sleep. He had so much work to do, not the least with his classes, that he was entirely distracted. He was learning the art of enchanting from Professor Flitwick in his off hours, it was heavily related to charms (really, Harry thought, it was just _permanently_ applying a charm to an object) and his half-goblin mentor had turned out to have quite a flair for it. Now that he had Ollivander's notes as well, he had a huge new project to spend time on top of all the rest of his work.

He had started collecting ingredients for the curing process of the Tebo leather. Ollivander's notes had included a contact address for a pair of goblins in Gringotts who could procure gemstones and higher end ingredients for alchemical processes and potions. Harry established contact with the goblins, a female named Gemshaper and her mate, Ragnok. Harry had used Ollivander's name in his opening letter to the pair, and he had established what he thought was a good relationship with them. Ollivander's notes had included proper forms of address and a few notes on how the goblins preferred to be treated, Harry had taken them to heart and showed only the highest respect to the pair. He thought it prudent, if not what he would have liked to do anyway. He was again grateful to the strange old man for his help.

He started looking up ways to concentrate and focus power in an object. He was planning on creating as balanced and powerful a focus as he could, but he wanted it to appear to be just a fancy wand holster he designed himself. It turned out that the pentagram that Christians reviled so much as a sign of devil worship, was actually a very arithmetically stable form. Five points on the figure led to stability, and in its original form the shape had been used by Sumerians and a cult of Greek wizards as a way to concentrate power for the creation of spaces that were larger on the inside than the outside, like the tent they had used during the World Cup. The shape had also been used by Chinese wizards as a form demonstrating elemental balance between wood, fire, earth, metal and water. They evidently hadn't been big on air or wind for some reason. Harry and his love of flying demanded he find a way to incorporate it into the scheme, but he figured he had time to develop that.

Harry thought he could use it as a way to both hide his wand in the bracer, and as a way to create a focus. He had no knowledge of arithmancy, so in the lead up to Samhain and the arrival of the other two schools involved in the tournament, he could be found more and more often in the Library surrounded by pages of notes on the subject.

Hedwig was also getting a workout (and she was loving it, Harry thought), as Harry had been sending notes to Sirius asking after arithmancy knowledge and just to keep in general contact with his closest family member. Sirius had turned out to be a goldmine of knowledge. The marauders had used a lot of unique spell work in their pranks, and while Moony had been the expert, Sirius was no slouch. Harry couldn't bring himself to send letters to the werewolf, despite constant prompting from Padfoot. Harry harbored some resentment that Moony had spent all of third year with him, including extra lessons to figure out the patronus charm, and had never once mentioned his parents or what he knew of Sirius. Harry guessed that Dumbledore had told Remus to not seek him out, likely for the same reasons that no one but Arthur had seen fit to tell him the first thing about Sirius, but he was a marauder for Odin's sake! Harry expected better.

* * *

October wound down, and tensions wound up in the castle. Filch could been seen practically foaming at the mouth at anyone who so much as scuffed a shoe in the hallways. Students from every house found out that they had 'volunteered' to help clean, and were taught a few household charms to clean the suits of armor, paintings, or stone work, and set loose on the castle to shine up anything and everything. By the day before the groups from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were due to arrive, the castle seemed brand new. The suits of armor could be seen preening and staring at themselves in each other's breast plates. The woodwork in the beams of the great hall and all across the ground glowed from within after having been treated and oiled by scores of students three or four times apiece. The paintings across the castle could also be heard constantly asking students to conjure up mirrors for them so they could see themselves. The colors across all of Hogwarts had never seemed brighter.

Harry had been taught a number of painting charms and charms for the care of the copper roofing used over large sections of the castle, and between classes could often be found on his firebolt cleaning wide swathes of the school as he passed over it.

His connection to Lady Hogwarts had also never been closer. His fulfilling his bargain with Peeves and his work taking care of her, which was paralleled only by the contributions of the professors themselves, endeared the 14 year old to the ancient living castle. As he walked the halls the feeling he got when he had first arrived this year had only increased. Harry had never been happier, and it showed when he talked to Neville and Luna.

* * *

Luna had been mirroring Harry's mood for the last few weeks. She had felt her own connection to the castle grow as she cleaned and helped it. The Lady of the Castle had always loved her, and Luna could feel the glow of the castle's love around Harry as well.

As far as the boy-who-lived went, Luna was confused. He seemed happy, and he was one of her first true friends. She really like him, but she was just really confused. The plimpies in the lake and the blibbering humdingers that loved flying around the hallways (and strangely enough, infesting Hermione Granger's hair) had been telling her that Harry would soon be very angry and sad. They were urging her to become closer to Harry, they whispered at her that she should be hugging him at every opportunity.

She knew they had never steered her wrong before (unlike those damned nargles, those pesky things led her directly to Mrs. Norris and Filch all the time, which she just couldn't understand) so she did what they asked. Which wasn't to say that she didn't enjoy it, she thought as she smiled to herself.

Harry had been missing during a number of the normal meal times, lately. He often ate in the kitchen with the elves (She loved the elves, they were so much fun to talk to, and they knew so many things! They also loved her unique breakfast choices, so she often grabbed late night breakfast snacks with them), but fortunately the humdingers usually told her when he was heading down there, so she met him there more often than not.

They had gotten pretty close in general since the train, she almost thought he was hearing the humdingers and dabberblimps too, given how he seemed to show in the library every single time she had gone there this year to work on homework. He helped Neville and herself with every question they had, and he had even offered a number of excellent ideas toward tracking the illusive crumple-horned snorkack (Which reminded her, she needed to tell daddy to not plan for a hunting expedition over winter break, the giant squid mentioned that she would soon have something better to do here at Hogwarts).

She found herself drawn to Harry even outside of what the Humdingers were urging her to do. When he was around she didn't even hear from her creatures very much. When he was around she found herself just having fun and really enjoying talking to him and to Neville. Susan and Hannah also made a point to eat with the three of them as often as they could, and they often stopped her to say hello in the halls. Her life had gotten a lot better since that awful time on the train. She blamed Harry for it. She blamed Harry for it every day, and with a smile.

Currently she stood outside in the oppressive Scottish cold, waiting for the two visiting schools to appear. The dabberblimps that hovered around the school off and on during the year (She wondered where they went when they disappeared. The mermen were the only ones who had a clear view of the castle at all times, she made a mental note to ask them at some point) told her that the first school would be getting here soon and from the air. She started scanning the skies, which alerted the 'Claws near her to the imminent arrival of one of the schools by air.

The Ravenclaws were smart people. Noticing trends was, in many ways, their entire wheel house. The problem many of them had with Luna was her unpredictability. They couldn't take data that had no context, and data without context was about 80% of Luna by volume. What they had noticed though, was that _she_ seemed to notice a lot of things before they happened. The house's running theory was that she had a touch of the sight that Trelawney was always gassing on about. So when Luna looked up to the air out of nowhere, and began visibly scanning it, the 'Claws that ran the house betting pools began laying 10:3 odds on the first school arriving by air.

When she spotted the quickly growing black dot in the sky, Luna leaned to her left and whispered her thanks to the dabberblimp that had come down from the orbit it had shared with its brothers around the school (being that Luna was on the end of her row, many found it curious that she leaned into empty space and whispered at the fat moth on the ground next to her).

The representatives of Beauxbatons passed by Luna in relative silence. She would be quiet too, she thought, if she had left a flying two story carriage to enter a magical castle at the start of a Scottish winter. Not because such an occurrence was uncommon to her (not that it was common to her either), more because when she got to a new place the humdingers often spent a long time telling her about the area. They were nice like that. She smiled idly, and began looking towards the lake.

* * *

Harry was eating at the Gryffindor table for the first time in a long time. It felt very strange, though that could have been because the House of the Lions had left a lot of room open around him, and most were looking at him with thinly veiled hostility in their eyes. He wrote it off as just being something weird that he didn't understand, they studied magic in an ancient sentient castle after all (he wrote a lot of things off like that). Something must have happened while he had been off doing research in the library or something. It'd blow over eventually, it always did.

He chatted idly with Neville for a while. He had made a lot of progress on his bracer, and he was explaining to Neville how the abraxans that carried the Beauxbatons carriage had given him the idea of using follicles from feathers of magical creatures to trace the lines of the pentagrams he was going to put on it (a thestral hair, a phoenix feather, and a feather from one of the abraxans would do, he figured). Harry thought it might provide the influence of air he was looking for, to further balance out the other elements. He wasn't totally sure how he could get good representatives of the other elements, but he knew of a book in the restricted section that detailed elemental influences in magically active materials. He'd grab it sooner or later.

The veela he had noticed from the Beauxbatons contingent crossed over from the Ravenclaw table to take a bowl of some French dish from the Gryffindor table. She went to grab it from near Ron, and all of the guys sitting near him stared at her, (Harry squinted a bit as he looked closer) Ron appeared to be actually drooling as he looked over her. Well at least he wasn't looking at Viktor Krum like that anymore, Harry mused.

Harry shot a very amused look at Neville who had noticed the strange influence around his core as soon as Harry had. Neville returned it. Watching the boys of Hogwarts make asses of themselves around her would become a bit of a sport for them, Harry suspected.

As the feast closed, Harry conjured a small scrap of parchment and an inked quill, and penned a small note of thanks which he left on his plate. It quickly disappeared with the last of the leftover food. Harry smiled, he knew the house elves appreciated thanks, and he really liked them. They were all very nice, and he knew they would appreciate the note. He had felt the castle whisper the idea to him one day when he was trying to figure out how to thank them, and he had been doing it for a week or two now.

Harry laughed internally at the fact that the elves genuinely appreciated his notes of thanks, but despised both Hermione and cleaning Gryffindor tower because of all of the knitting she left about to try and release them. She wasn't the one the elves were bound to, she couldn't release them, but they hated that she wouldn't just talk to them about how they felt about serving. She actually had a Voldemort style hyphenated name among the elves, She-who-knits. It was great.

The hall quieted very quickly as Dumbledore stood with the headmasters of the other school. Madam Maxine, who dwarfed him by a solid two and a half feet, and Karkaroff (who had removed his outer layer of furs revealing even more beneath it, the man looked like a large white ferret, reminding Harry further of a certain Slytherin) each moved to a side of the Hogwarts headmaster.

Dumbledore gestured to Filch, who moved to the center of the hall in front of the headmaster's favorite lectern, pushing a cart which had a large intricately carved and jewel encrusted wooden box on it. Dumbledore removed the lid from the box with a gesture, and a hexagonal flagstone rose from the floor next to the headmaster. He gently lifted a massive wooden cup from the depths of the box and with great ceremony, placed the cup on the raised stone. Each of the headmasters touched the cup with their wands and the moment the last wand made contact with the cup, the inside of the cup burst into blue flames.

Harry's senses weathered a brief magical assault, as the magic of the cup filled the room and made itself known. The magic itself filled him with a sense of unease, but it was channeling so much of it that Harry felt compelled to take a closer look at it to see what he could learn from it, and if there was anything in it that might help him develop his bracer project.

Dumbledore's deep voice rose from his place at the front of the room. "This is the Goblet of Fire. It is our impartial judge. It has been used since the times of the Romans and their trials and tests in the Coliseum to choose the most worthy of a group of potential entrants, and bind them to a competition. The Goblet of Fire will chose one champion from each school, and that person will be magically bound to the tournament, which will feature three challenges spread over the rest of the year.

The three challenges have all been designed and agreed to by the Ministry of Magic from the each of the countries with a participating school, as well as the headmasters of each school. They have been designed to test the wit, strength, daring, and skill of the champions. With us from England's own ministry are Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman, the heads of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and the Department of Magical Games and Sports respectively, they will be joining my fellow headmasters and I in judging the competition. Each event will be scored based on the completion of the objective of the event, and the scores will determine the order of participation in the final event.

I will be drawing an age line (Fred, George, and Lee all sat closer together and began whispering at this) around the Goblet, and it will be left out following the conclusion of this feast. The age line will permit only those above the age of 17 years as of tonight through, any who are interested in entering must write their name and the name of their school on a piece of parchment and drop it into the magical fire of the goblet. Thank you all for your attention."

With his speech finished, he drew a glowing circle on the ground around the Goblet, and stepped out of it. Once out of the circle, he raised his voice a final time for the night, "I believe it is late, and would urge all of you to attend to your beds, I believe we will have much to discuss tomorrow."

The schools broke up, and most of the Hogwarts students headed to the entrance hall and from there to either the dungeons or staircases as befit their house. Harry stood and walked to the front, angling for the headmaster, as he drew near he called out, "Sir! Professor Dumbledore!"

The aged man stopped walking towards the anteroom at the end of the hall, and stood still as Harry approached, "Sir, if you don't mind, I would like to take a look at the goblet for a moment. I can feel it channeling an immense amount of magic and as you probably know, I'm studying enchanting with Professor Flitwick. If you don't mind, I'd like to cross your age line and take a quick look at the enchantments on the goblet."

Dumbledore displayed a look of great surprise at this, Harry wasn't sure if it was because he had never before sought out the headmaster and spoken to him of his own free will, or if it was because of his claim to be able to just walk through the age line, but surprise was there in spades. Dumbledore paused as if in thought for a moment, and then simply nodded his assent, turning to look at the Goblet as Harry approached it.

Harry drew near the age line, and put more power into the shield he had forged around his center. Since that day at the World Cup and Bill's later comments about occlumency, Harry had put a fair amount of time into making it stronger and being able to extend it around himself both to the limit of his skin and beyond his body. The shield couldn't effect offensive magic being employed against him, but it rendered him nearly impervious to passive magics like the age line and all but the strongest compulsion spells. He had taught most of his advancements to Neville and had given a few to Fred and George as well during his infrequent meetings with the diabolical pair. Harry grew a small smile just thinking of his brothers in all but blood, they were capable of this same feat, but had likely just not considered it.

Harry took the extra energy he put into his shield, and used it to extend the shell out to the very edge of his skin, and simply stepped through the line. Behind him, Dumbledore's mouth actually opened in abject surprise. Harry lifted his hand and brought it into contact with the goblet, he closed his eyes and pushed his awareness through his palm and into the object.

He experienced something akin to what he saw when he meditated and looked at his own core. The goblet's magic pulsed a bright blue, the same shade as the fire inside it. The goblet was an object of truth, he sensed. Its purpose was to sense the absolute truth of any who dropped their name into it, to pick from those names and truths to select the one who would give the greatest spectacle. It was an incredible work of enchantment, and Harry was glad he looked at it. The goblet was useless for his project, however. It simply channeled an immense amount of ambient magic through itself and pushed all of it through the cup's opening as flames. He also saw what had concerned him about the magic of the Goblet. Its purpose wasn't actually benign, it didn't look for the most qualified, it looked for the best show, and then bound the participant's magic to the intent of participating and winning. Not even winning without deceit or trickery, just winning.

Harry opened his eyes and removed his hand from the goblet. He looked around and noticed a look of surprise on the face of dozens of people who hadn't left the hall yet. Harry stepped out of the age line, and sketched out a quick bow towards the hall at large. He thanked the still stunned Dumbledore, and started badly whistling a jaunty tune as he walked out of the hall towards the enchanting lab. The tower would soon be filled with people asking him how he had done it, so he had no desire to be there. He also wanted to write down a couple thoughts he had about the truth enchantments he saw. The binding intrigued him, but offended something deep inside him. He would be glad to never encounter another object with the same power.

He noticed people following him with their eyes as he left and laughed a bit. If there was one thing his brothers had taught him, it was that people were always going to be staring at him. And as Fred had put it so eloquently, if they're gonna be staring, might as well give'em something to stare at.

Harry arrived at the lab and sketched out a few ideas, and then laid down on the cot he kept under his workbench and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

The next day was a Monday, and all of the students were excused from normal classes. The day was filled with the ceremonies and festivities that Mr. Crouch had been describing for the last month. Special bonfires were set up to be lit as darkness fell. Snape (against his will, no doubt) could be seen in the courtyard with conjured black boards explaining the steps in the brewing of the luck potion, _Felix Felicis_, to a large crowd of students from all three schools, highlighting why this day between the summer and winter solstices was important to the potion. Hagrid was on the edge of the forbidden forest explaining his gathering and herding of the thestrals this time of year to a group, and strangely enough, Luna was leading yet another group of students near the Black lake in talking to what appeared to be a small number of water nymphs.

Halloween was not the best day for Harry, so he decided to stick with his friend and spent all day talking to the nymphs and hanging out with Luna. It turned out she had some fairy blood in her ancestry, which made it easier for her to communicate with fairies of all kinds. She had been quietly approached by her head of house and asked to assist explaining how the fey was connected to this time of year and its traditions.

Harry had joined the majority of the student body and undergone a language ritual earlier that year to learn a number of languages, among them the language of the fey. The professors had offered the ritual (one of the few rituals not forbidden by the ministry) in order to facilitate communication between the schools later in the year.

The nymphs in the black lake turned out to be excellent conversationalists, it seemed there wasn't much to do normally, so they spent most of their time playing with the giant squid and bothering the merpeople who lived in the deepest part of the lake.

Harry had been getting worried feelings from Lady Hogwarts all day, but he didn't think he could do anything about it and the Lady hadn't communicated any kind of need to him. It bothered him a lot on top of his normal feelings for the day, but without any clues, he just stuck with Luna and hoped for the best. Somewhere during the day he found himself holding her hand as they sat at the edge of the lake, talking to nymphs and explaining the Samhain traditions of this part of the world to the foreign students. She didn't seem eager to let go, and it gave him comfort so he didn't either.

Around lunch time Harry called out to Dobby and asked him to bring a picnic lunch for Luna, the nymphs, and himself. Dobby disappeared and reappeared with a basket of sandwiches (Who knew water nymphs liked roast beef?), evidently a lot of people were asking the house elves to bring them lunch outside, so they had a large number of baskets of lunch food just readymade and waiting. Harry asked Dobby to join them, and when he refused Harry thanked him profusely and he popped away.

Harry and Luna whiled the day away, and before they knew it the bonfires set earlier the day were lit, and it was time for the Samhain feast and the announcement of the champions. Harry and Luna split for their house tables at the entrance hall, and after another excellent feast (Harry's thank you to the elves made sure to mention the lunch and the fact that the nymphs really appreciated their excellent work) Dumbledore lowered the lights in the hall with a wave of his hand.

As the lights lowered the conversation died off in the hall. At the head of the hall Dumbledore left his seat and went to stand next to the goblet. The other headmasters seemed very tense, and everyone at the staff table seemed to share the tension.

Dumbledore removed a pocket watch from his robes somewhere and took a look at it, his voice filled the hall, "I believe the goblet will need only another minute to reach its decision," Harry could feel the tension in the room increase with that statement, and the Lady Hogwarts seemed to share it all, "I wish to thank everyone who entered their names, and I would like to further thank those who attempted to enter their names."

At that the Headmaster inclined his head towards the Gryffindor table, where at the edge closest to the Goblet sat Fred, George, and Lee, all sporting waist length silvered beards. They took a moment to stand and bow to Dumbledore and the rest of the hall to much laughter, even from the foreign students.

"After the names of the champions are announced, I would ask that they move down the hall to the anteroom at the end, where they will be given the only clue they shall receive regarding the first event in the tournament," at that Dumbledore checked his watch again, and with another wave reduced the lights in the room even further.

The Goblet, in an instant, traded it's blue glow for a deep red and nearly violet, flame that raged from it, reaching three feet into the air. The sudden change stole the breath from everyone in the hall, and cast the room in a red glow. The fire died down after a moment, and a single tongue of flame licked out, leaving a slightly smoldering strip of parchment fluttering in the air near the Headmaster. Dumbledore's hand snapped out with a dexterity that belied his age, and he snatched the parchment from the air, "The champion for the Durmstrang Institute is Viktor Krum!"

A dull roar met the proclamation, and Krum stood and walked to the room Dumbledore indicated. Before the roar had completely faded, a second tongue of the fire flared out, leaving another piece of parchment fluttering above Dumbledore. As the tongue formed and flared, the roar was immediately silenced, and into that silence he read the name of the next competitor, " The Champion for the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is Fleur Delacour!"

The veela who had so enchanted Ron the night before stood, and with a grace that displayed her ancestry better than any neon sign, followed Krum's route to and through the door behind the staff table. The students of Beauxbatons showed a lot less support for her than the students of Durmstrang had for Krum. Several girls at the Ravenclaw table had actually burst into tears at the announcement. Harry could see Luna gently pat one of the crying girls on the back. From the Goblet a third bolt of flame lashed into the air above it. Dumbledore grabbed the parchment, "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table exploded into cheers. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor followed suit quickly, and after a further moment even the Slytherin table cheered for the handsome boy that stood and went to the end of the hall. Dumbledore waved his hand and the lights returned to the hall. Attention left the goblet and moved to Dumbledore as he announced the end of the feast.

"I expect there will be several parties held tonight, I ask that you all save them for your common rooms and-"

In that instant, Harry felt a tendril of magic impact the shield he kept around his core and attempt to worm its way through. Harry reinforced his shield immediately, and his perception of time seemed to slow as he fought with the unknown magic.

The tendril was almost successful, so Harry abandoned his attempt to reinforce the shield and simply layered another underneath it. When the tendril penetrated the outer shield, Harry vanished it and focused on layering yet another underneath the one the tendril was currently grappling.

He didn't know how he knew, but Harry could feel that letting the tendril reach his tie to magic would be a very, very bad thing. It felt like the magic of the Goblet, which only served to increase his nervousness. For what felt like hours, Harry struggled against the foreign magic, setting up layers and layers of shielding, and dropping penetrated layers as soon as the tendril found a way through them. After an amount of time Harry couldn't begin to define, the tendril seemed to grow weaker and slowed down. It wormed through a final layer, and then simply bonded into the shield layer beneath. Harry stopped it from reaching his core, but he was near magically exhausted from the effort. His perception of time moved back to normal and he heard his headmaster finish forming the word "and" before looking up and seeing a fourth whip of red flame flash into being and leave another piece of parchment floating down towards the headmaster. Dumbledore didn't bother to snatch this one from the air, and merely let it fall into his open palm. The hall was silent as he raised the parchment and called out, "Harry Potter."

The silence continued for several moments at this final announcement, as every eye in the hall moved to the boy sitting nearly alone at the Gryffindor table. In that moment Harry moved his hand to his face, wiping off the sweat that had formed during his battle of will with the tendril of unknown magic and the whole hall heard his simple declaration.

"Oh bugger."

Harry stood slowly, and looked to Dumbledore, who inclined his head towards the door the other champions had entered. As he moved from the bench he had sat on and slowly down the hall, whispers and soon cries filled the chamber.

"Cheat!"

"I saw him pass the age line!"

"Potter is a cheater!"

"Shame on you!"

Harry heard the cries continue until he got to the door and closed it behind him. Inside the room, the Veela (Fleur, he amended internally) was the first to react to his presence.

"Do zey need us back out in ze 'all?"

Harry shook his head glumly and Cedric, either from being used to the shenanigans that followed Harry around or just be being quick on the draw, sighed out loud and sunk into one of the arm chairs that filled the room. Harry walked over to the window. Krum simply grunted and Fleur looked on with a confused expression.

Harry leaned his forehead against the cool glass, and looked outside at the bonfires that still burned on the grounds. Lady Hogwarts tried to fill him with warmth. She knew it wasn't his fault, he thought. At least the castle was on his side, his mouth twisted into a small and sad grin.

After a few minutes of silence, the three headmasters entered the room with Professors Snape, Moody, and McGonagall as well as the ministry representatives.

"-makes no sense, Dumbly-door. Zere simply cannot be _four_ champions in ze _tri_wizard tournament, no?", came the unmistakable voice of the massive French headmaster.

Bagman met her question, "I'm afraid it _must_ be, madam. I agree it's unusual, but if his name came out of the cup he is magically bound to compete. Just ask Barty here, he has the whole rulebook committed to memory!"

Crouch moved in front of the three headmasters at that and said somewhat mechanically, "There can be no mistake in this. It is a highly irregular development to be sure, but anyone whose name comes out of the Goblet of Fire is part of a magically enforced contract and must compete or lose their magic entirely. A fourth champion is strange, and is certainly worth investigation, but our course, and Potter's are set."

They had all fully entered the room now, and with the conversation as a clue, Fleur caught on to what was going on.

"Zis leetle boy ees to compete with ze rest of us? Zere is no way!"

Harry had enough at that. This was the anniversary of the day he lost his family. This was the anniversary of the day he was moved to the Dursleys, where he spent the next nine years being degraded and beaten. It was part of the bad feeling he had been having all day. On top of that, he was damn near magically exhausted, but that French _tart_'s comment (Fleur, he amended again, this time a bit slower) pushed him over the edge, he was pissed off.

Before another word could be uttered, Harry whipped around and with a hand movement, incinerated a chair that had the misfortune of being at his right side. This served to gather the room's attention.

Harry began speaking in a quiet tone that dripped with suppressed violence, "I've survived a being bitten by a basilisk, I have survived the tender mercies of the darkest wizard since Grindelwald, and I have survived face to face encounters with a werewolf and an Acromantula colony. I have faced, with the exception of my headmaster, more danger and violence than any _three_ of you. Let there be no doubt about my abilities. Now if I wanted to be here and if I wanted in to this tournament, I would be happy right now. I am not happy. Today is the thirteenth anniversary of the day my parents died and I lost everything. Give me my clue and let me go."

Everyone in the room, save Dumbledore and Moody, took a step back from the combination of the raw vitriol of his tone, his words, and the decidedly angry magic the filled the room. Dumbledore adopted a look of contrition, and Moody slowly took a swig from his flask. Mad-eye's movement brought life back into the room, and Bagman spoke up, his voice cracking slightly as he began, "The first task is designed to test your daring and your courage in the face of the unknown. You will be given no other information. The task will be on November 24th. The champions will enter the task with only their wands, but will be given ten minutes prep time before the task begins. Due to the time constraints for training and general preparation, champions are exempt from attending classes and end of year tests. All champions will have access to the entire Hogwarts library, including the restricted section. Champions will be given a small budget for use on materials in preparation for the tournament. Any questions?"

Harry moved to the door and made to leave, just before he stepped out Dumbledore called out, "Harry, we really need to meet to discuss your inclusion in the tournament. Let's go to my office."

Without turning Harry replied, "I'll meet you there, I need to clear my head." Harry stepped out of the room and allowed the door to close behind him. The great Hall was deserted, and Harry began making his way to the Headmaster's office. The castle was sending him calming feelings, and Harry let his feet guide him to the gargoyle as he got lost in his own thoughts.

At his center, the tendril of foreign magic was still connected to his barrier. He vanished the barrier, and with it the tendril, then he sunk all his anger and desperation into his core. He idly erected a number of new barrier layers while he began cursing his fate.

Was he not entitled to a single Halloween, a single Samhain, free of a death threat? Was he not entitled to a single school year without the same? He didn't want to be in any stupid tournament. He didn't even want to be here. He wanted to be in a party right now in Gryffindor tower, drinking butter beer with his brothers in honor of Cedric. He hated this. The castle sent him more feelings of love, and without thinking he sent the same back. At least the Lady was with him.

He took a deep breath, and sunk the rest of his anger into his core. It was a lot bigger than it had been at the start of the year, the anger Snape and his snakes inspired had ironically been the source of his increased magical ability. He suppose he ought to thank them, without their torment he would have fallen prey that strange magical attack earlier.

He found himself at the gargoyle. "I don't suppose you'd just open for me, would you?"

The stone griffin inclined its head to him and stepped aside.

"Thank you."

Harry climbed the stairs and entered the office. Fawkes trilled a hello from his perch near the desk. Harry walked to him and scratched him just beneath his beak, where he liked. Harry slowly moved his forehead into contact with the powerful magical being, and spoke to the phoenix.

"Why me, boy?"

Fawkes trilled a note that spoke of sorrow. Harry appreciated the sentiment. It had been a very long few hours and just scratching the itch of an immortal bird was calming. Then he remembered he was standing in front of a phoenix and that he actually had a need for phoenix feathers.

"Hey, forgive me if this is rude, but could I have two of your feathers? I'm trying to build myself a better magical focus and I could really use a feather from a beautiful phoenix like you.", Harry thought a little bit of flattery couldn't hurt.

Fawkes shook his tail feathers, and two fell to his perch and into the ashes from his last burning day. Harry conjured a silk bag and placed the ashy feathers into it. He thought the ashes might bring a bit of extra oomph to the feathers. Fawkes then nudged Harry's shoulder with his head and blinked at him meaningfully. Harry had no idea what the phoenix meant though, until the majestic bird's eye grew watery. Harry quickly conjured a miniature flask and caught the small flood of tears Fawkes gave him.

"Thank you. You have always been incredibly kind to me, and you've saved my life a few times. I really do appreciate it."

Fawkes gave a happy trill and Harry sat down in one of the chairs in front of the headmaster's desk. He didn't have to wait long, as the three headmasters filed into the office a moment later, and they were followed by Harry's head of house.

They had clearly resolved a fair bit between themselves on the way up, as they entered, promptly sat, and McGonagall faced him before starting, "Harry, we have three questions for you, and then we'll let you go. We would ask one thing though, I have here," she produced a clear vial from inside her robes, "A very powerful truth potion, called Veritaserum. If I put three drops on your tongue, you will be compelled to tell the absolute truth to any question we ask you. The questions we want to ask you are: Did you enter your name into the competition, did you have anyone else enter you into the competition, and conditional upon your answers, do you have any idea why you were entered. Is that okay? And you can say no."

With all of their eyes upon him, and with the castle pouring support into him, Harry decided to just do it.

"That sounds fine, at least you all will know the truth."

McGonagall applied the potion and asked the questions. After the potion was put on his tongue, Harry felt an influence similar to when Moody had cast the imperius on him. He knew he could ignore it if he wanted, but he decided to just let it ride, and he slipped into a warm empty place as he answered.

"I did not enter myself. I never asked anyone to enter me, though the Twins did ask me for help brewing their aging potion. I think I was entered by someone who wanted me to be injured or killed by the competition."

Minerva applied the counter-agent before any other question could be asked, and the headmasters accepted his answers. Each looked pensive as he slowly regained his sense of himself after the counteragent took effect.

"Do you need anything else from me?," Harry asked in a deeply resigned voice, "I really would like to go to bed."

Dumbledore said that they did not, and Harry left for the tower.


	10. Chapter 9: Trouble with the Pride

Chapter 9

Harry finally got to Gryffindor tower, and he gave the Fat Lady the password. She didn't open which brought him to his senses, he actually met her gaze at that point and she said to him in a clipped tone, "The password has changed young man, and may I just say, you brought shame to your house this night by cheating your way into the tournament. You have dragged Hogwarts' good name into the dirt!"

Harry sighed. The castle's love and support did not translate to the portraits. Good to know, he guessed.

"Could you at least announce me, then, so I can go to bed?"

"No," the Fat Lady replied without explanation. Harry sighed again.

"Fine, I'm headed to the library if anyone asks."

Harry really wanted to get some information on Magical vows and bonds. If he was bound by magic to compete he might as well get some information on what exactly that entailed. Ideally it would also tell him if that tendril of power that had attacked him was the binding, and if he was free because he defeated it. He made his way to the library, finding it open but Madam Pince absent. He looked through the book registry and found a few volumes which he grabbed. He sat down with the books to figure out what exactly he had gotten into, and as soon as he cracked open the first book, Hermione entered the library and walked to him.

"You can come back to the tower now."

"Why didn't the Fat Lady let me in? She seemed rather irate when I tried to get in to go to bed."

Hermione didn't answer him, she just turned on her heel and left. Harry had a feeling it was going to be a very long night, and the last few hours had already seemed to drag on for eternity. He just wanted to sleep!

Harry collected his books, signed them out, and made his way to the tower. Hermione hadn't waited for him but also hadn't given him the new password, so she waited for him holding the portrait open. Harry entered the common room just behind her, and she quickly walked up to and disappeared behind what looked like a battle line of Gryffindors who appeared to have been waiting for him. The seventh year prefect, a brown haired guy whose name Harry couldn't remember, walked forward and handed Harry a parchment. As Harry began reading the prefect returned to the line, and a voice from the back of the room called out, "Cheat!"

The prefect turned around and faced Harry again after he reached the safety of the battle line, Harry was still reading when the guy summed up the parchment pretty succinctly, "Harry James Potter, stand aware that the noble house of Godric Gryffindor, in line with our house rules and as supported by the Hogwarts charter, hereby places you under an official notice of censure. The censure is to not end until either one year has passed, or you stand before the collected student body and admit culpability for having cheated your way into the Triwizard Tournament," the prefect cleared his throat and continued, "You are hereby forbidden from spending time in the common room of our house. You may not make use of any house resources. You may not wear the sigil or colors of our house on your uniform. You have brought shame to our school and to our house, so we will be posting this notice outside the entrance to the Great Hall. We do not stand for this behavior"

Harry sighed, and looked at the group. At least Neville and his brothers weren't there. Harry glanced at the parchment in his hand, their signatures were absent as well, though Ron and Hermione's names were featured prominently. He passed his hand over his tie, wandlessly casting an illusion over his whole uniform, removing the gold and red. Then Harry moved his hand over the Gryffindor house symbol on his chest, wandlessly conjuring a patch in the same form in his hand and casting an illusion over the uniform, hiding it. His day kept getting worse, and he just kept getting angrier.

He held his hand out, and in a gesture that was unmistakable to everyone in the room, dropped the patch to the ground.

"That same charter you mentioned demands that the accused be allowed to speak for him or herself in defense of their actions, but I chose to go to the library when you refused me entry, so even if it's unfair, I guess I'll call that one in your favor. My defense would have been that I didn't do it. I have plenty of money and no need for fame, the only real thing I want is a normal year. Someone entered me against my will, and I personally believe I was entered with the intent of my injury or death.

But aside from my defense, let me make one thing clear to you all, when has Gryffindor ever truly been my house? Who among you all supported me when the whispers in the hall said one of your own was the heir of Slytherin? Who among you supported me or protected me or helped me in the slightest when those same whispers claimed that the most wanted man in Britain had come to Hogwarts for nothing less than my life? Who among any of you has ever looked at me as anything but the one identity that I hate most of all, the thrice damned boy-who-lived? No one whose name is on this," he said, brandishing the parchment.

"Hogwarts has, since my first moment here, been the closest thing I have ever had to a home but you all have proven to me again that I am unwelcome wherever I tread. Thanks for that I guess. I happily rid myself of your colors, and I hope you are prepared to deal with the consequences of your actions," at that he raised the parchment and wandlessly burned it to ashes with bright green flames.

He brought his wand forward and summoned his belongings. When his trunk arrived, he shrunk it and pocketed it, and turned without a sound and left the portrait open behind him. No one said a word. Anger covered some faces. Shame, others.

In a dark corner of the room, as far as they could get from the group of lions that had confronted Harry, the Twins and Neville sat with unhappy looks on their faces.

Harry had moved from anger back to apathy/resignation. This day needed to end. The only good thing about it had been the time spent with Luna. First I get entered into a fun new-age (by wizard standards anyway) version of the old fashion roman blood sports, then I get nailed by my own house, Harry thought. It had felt good to tell that room of professors and champions about his parent's anniversary though. Even if he said it in anger, saying it out loud had helped.

Lady Hogwarts had moved from sending him love and encouragement, to sending him directions to the enchanting labs. It was nice of her. Harry was dead on his feet. He had been sleeping there a lot anyway, maybe he could get the house elves to move him a bed there from storage. The cot he had was one he conjured, and it was a really nice one, certainly better than what he had back at cell block number 4, Privet Drive. But even with magic, a cot could only take you so far.

After entirely too much time, Harry made it to his place in the labs. The labs themselves were in the mostly abandoned east wing of the castle. No one had seriously studied enchanting for over a decade, so the whole wing had been converted mostly to storage. The upside to that was that there was plenty of space, so Harry had an entire workshop to himself. It was quiet and private, which suited him just fine, especially considering it was likely to be his room for the foreseeable future.

Harry entered his lab and shot off a _colloportus_ without thinking. He shrugged off his robes and kicked off his trainers purely through muscle memory, and sat down on his cot. He had done almost all of the above without opening his eyes. Maybe he really had been spending too much time in here. He went to lay back on the cot, when he found that it seemed a little longer and wider than he remembered. It also seemed to be inhabited by something soft, warm, and possessing of an arm. His mind slowly added the observations he had made together, and found the resulting sum worth opening his eyes.

He turned and looked down to find that his cot was indeed longer and wider than he remembered. Also while it was in the same place and at the same height, the house elves (By Odin he loved those little guys. He was buying them all candy or something) had beaten him to the punch and moved a bed there. The warm, soft, and armed thing he had felt (he laughed at his own words there, a sure sign of his exhaustion) turned out to be Luna.

"Luna, I'm not complaining mind you, but why are you on a bed in my lab?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that it wasn't because the humdingers led me here?"

"Does that mean that you came here because you wanted to, or is this one of those tricky double negative moments where they did tell you to come here, but you want to know if I believed that they didn't but you did anyway?"

"Harry, lay down. You've had a long day. You're going to sleep, and I'm cuddling you."

"Okay Luna. I trust you."

Those were the last words spoken that night by either of them, though calling sounds mumbled into a pillow incoherently by a man who was a hair's breadth away from losing consciousness to magical exhaustion words may have been ennobling the process a little. Luna covered Harry with blankets, set an alarm charm for about half an hour before breakfast, and turned off the lights with a quick _nox_. True to her word, she lifted Harry's arm over her side and snuggled into his chest, careful to keep her hair from interfering with his breathing.

She felt content, then promptly felt guilty for feeling content. The Lady of the Castle had seen the signs before she had, Luna really did care for Harry. Her feelings for him had even advanced beyond the point where she saw him as a rescuer from the terrible witches of Ravenclaw and her own abject loneliness. The Lady had caught Luna's attention from her place on her bed in the Ravenclaw dorms, and directed her down to Harry's enchanting lab to wait for him.

The change in bed had been Luna's idea. The Lady had whispered the bare bones of the confrontation in Gryffindor tower to her, so she had a good idea of why Harry had needed her, beyond being involved against his will in the tournament. She knew that the elves were aware of what had happened to Harry, so she called to Dobby and asked for help, and as always Dobby was more than willing to assist his friends.

She snuggled a little deeper into Harry's arms. The boy was a very comfy bedmate. She would tell him about wizard's oaths tomorrow, and he would probably take a bit of vindictive joy in using that knowledge against the Gryffindors. The act of censure, once voted on and approved by the students of the house, could not be taken back. They would, unfortunately for them, learn of the error of their ways.

* * *

Harry woke the next morning at his usual ungodly hour. He found that he had absolutely no desire to move. Moving, and being awake, and interacting with people, and being a person, all sounded terrible. He wanted yesterday to go away. Harry knew thinking and feeling all of these things was really childish, but given all he had been party to in the last few years, he thought that perhaps a little childishness was in order. As much as he wished it weren't true, his claim to have seen and survived more than anyone else in the room the night before had been true. Sometimes Harry felt the old soldier in himself. He hated it. He should be happy. His concern should be Luna and other girls, not figuring out how to not get hurt in this year's death-challenge. Maybe he should lean on his father's tradition, maybe it was time to act a bit like the marauders.

As he lay in bed with a ray of light slowly crawling over him and the witch he held in his arms, (wait... what? How did she... no, you know what, he refused to bother with how or why. He was gonna go caveman on this one. Harry have cute girl in arms. Harry not move. Harry happy.) he began to put together a plan that would bring some proof of the fact that he was fourteen into the mix. He had literally asked for none of this, so why in the name of the All-Father should he deal with it? His house had rejected him, and he wasn't the chosen champion of his school, so the only reason to do anything was just for himself. So if what he wanted to do was flaunt how little he cared in front of the wizarding world, maybe he would do just that. Maybe he would start now, with the cute and quirky witch in his arms. Even if he was magically bound to compete, Harry thought, he wasn't magically bound to take anything seriously.

Harry squeezed Luna a little closer to his chest and went back to sleep. About an hour and a half later Luna's wand began buzzing, and the groggy pair of teens woke and began to actually move about.

For Harry, that meant rubbing his eyes and sitting up so he could look for his glasses. For Luna that meant grumbling about the hour and attempting to stop the warm thing that surrounded her from moving. It turned out she wasn't really a morning person.

Harry stood up and placed the blankets over Luna along with a light warming charm. She mumbled something that sounded sleepy and grateful as Harry took his trunk from his pocket and began considering if it was a bad idea or not to live in your own lab. On the one hand he would no longer feel bad about crashing in the lab when he worked late, it was in a relatively private location, and it was quiet. On the other, potions often give off noxious fumes, a single ill-timed explosion could mean losing every one of his worldly possessions, and he would likely never stop working or leave.

He looked back at the witch in the bed, his bed. Maybe he would still leave from time to time. He wasn't obligated to go to class anymore, which was excellent. He was so far ahead in most of his core classes that it wasn't funny. The switch to wandless magic had pulled him much closer to the magic inside himself, and it had brought a much greater understanding of how magic itself was guided by intent. With all this champion nonsense he could afford to focus on his bracer project, and get some hard core studying of arithmancy in, which he believed would prove invaluable later in life. If he played it right, he might even get Hogwarts to pay for his building a new and untraceable magic focus for himself.

He knew that McGonagall would still be willing to teach him further. She had personally seen to his innocence after all. He was as close to certain as he could be that Flitwick would also be willing to continue his extra lessons. Now that he had access to the restricted section, he believed he would be able to fill his time with self-study nicely. Maybe this damned tournament would work out for the best after all.

Harry held out a hand and cast a quick wandless _tempus_. It was 6:30 or so, he had half an hour until breakfast. Harry assumed that most people would be up and around right at the start of breakfast today. Not only because classes resumed, but because the masses probably wanted to catch the latest rumors and likely the fallout of his becoming the fourth champion.

Harry spent 15 of his 30 minutes conjuring, then enchanting a small shower. Harry was sure that there were rune clusters that could have had the work done in half the time, but in the absence of that knowledge he stuck with what he knew. The job he did wouldn't win awards, but it should last him a few days at least. In his work with his favorite transfiguration mistress he had yet to quite get the hang of a permanent conjuration. It was only a slight change in incantation, but it was the mental shift that threw him off. The notion of actual permanency escaped him, he kept thinking of everything going away when the sun finally decided to give up and die, and his inability to really contemplate _forever_ was hampering him. She was having him read mundane scientific journal articles about the mathematical definition of infinity, which felt incredibly odd, given that he was in a school that taught magic, but he wrote it off. He was getting closer though, he could feel it.

He grabbed a quick shower in his hastily made bathroom, and when he had finished his morning ablutions, he figured it was time to wake the sleeping beauty in his bed. (It felt incredibly strange to even think that, he decided.) Before Harry could bring himself to shake Luna's shoulder and get her started on the day, he took a minute to try to figure out where he stood on the Luna issue.

She could be very airy, she usually gave off the appearance of being somewhere else, even though her body was right in front of you. She also had some of the same scars on her mind that he did. Losing parents and loved one's was tough, that as uniting experience was probably why Neville had gotten along with her so well in the beginning. Like Neville though, once Harry made it past the beginning where she just seemed odd, there was no shortage of things to appreciate about her. She really was cute. Her hair had this way of catching the light sometimes, and if it hit juuuuust right, it seemed to glow from within. She was as sturdy a friend as a guy could ask for, and she seemed to be able to be stern, fun, and accommodating in all the right places.

After less than a term Harry honestly felt closer to her than he did to either Ron or Hermione, and they had three years of history and potentially deadly experiences to fall back on. Harry thought she complimented his inability to just be normal and blend in nicely.

The problem was that Harry thought he had feelings for her. He wasn't sure if they were real, or strong, or what to do with them if he could even iron them out enough to understand them. He had buried it, but he have never quite killed the part of himself that would do anything just to be accepted and loved. The Dursleys had taught him how bad that was for him. So did he actually like her? Or was this just that desire to be loved coming back and making him reach out to someone that looked like she might care?

It caused nearly physical pain to Harry to even think about, but he might have to go to the library and see if there was anything helpful regarding this. He was incredibly ashamed at being so lost he needed books to help him figure out feelings. He sighed. The library wouldn't be helpful, he knew this was an emotive thing, a 'gut' thing, but what the hell did he know? When you're lost a crappy map is better than none, Harry decided, so he figured he could spend a few days seeing if he could tease some meaning from the gestalt of the Hogwarts library.

Harry shook her shoulder to wake her up. His impression of her not being a morning person was only enhanced when she made a number of uncomplimentary sounding grumbles (did she just imply his mother was an Australian snake-wallaby?), but he got her up after a minute of constant poking and nudging. He wasn't 100% on the protocol for getting a girl out of bed and to breakfast in the morning, but since his vague recollection of the night before had her waiting for him here, he figured this one was on her.

She got out of bed and after taking a moment to adjust her pyjamas (Harry felt that the white cloth patterned with rubber ducks worked for her) turned to him and gave a look of uncharacteristic seriousness.

"The Lady of the Castle whispered to me a bit last night, she let me know what the Gryffindors did," Harry couldn't hide a grimace. He still almost couldn't believe they had put him under censure without even talking to him or letting him speak. He wasn't close to anyone but Nev and the Twins these days, and he knew folks were angry about the whole quidditch thing, but even for the house that leaped without looking, this felt rash. His innocence didn't even bother him in this, it had never mattered before so he was used to it, but he had been right last night, they really had shown him he wasn't welcome anywhere.

Luna continued during his thoughts, "We're wizards.. err... witches. Magic-users. Whatever, the point is we have the power to find absolute truth in a situation. I saw the books you got last night. You don't have much time, but look up something called a wizards oath," Her face moved from serious to predatory, "And maybe think about making one during breakfast. I need clothes and books for the day, but I'll see you in the library?"

Harry nodded, he was about half a step behind her thought process so she was almost to the door before he stopped her and gave her his invisibility cloak for the walk back to Ravenclaw tower. As he handed it to her, she went up on her toes and gave his a kiss on his cheek that left him fully a step and a half further behind.

* * *

Harry managed to pull his head out of wherever it had been hiding, check the relevant passage that Luna mentioned and get to breakfast about twenty minutes after it started. When he got to the Great Hall he saw almost the entire population of Hogwarts in evidence. It had been a very dramatic night, after all, and how could the rumor mill function if they didn't get up early to make things up and spread them? Only a few representatives of the foreign schools were there. It was early yet, especially for the Bulgarians who were used to a different time zone.

Harry took his customary seat at the Ravenclaw table. They had gotten used to his presence, and his grades had made it at least moderately acceptable for him to be there. As far as many of the ravens had been concerned, he had normalized the stain on Ravenclaw honor known as Luna Lovegood, so in the past they had let his presence go unremarked. With his evident cheating the night before fresh in all of their minds though, there were a large number of unfriendly whispers and decidedly less friendly glances.

The Gryffindor table seemed strangely cowed though. Harry looked closely at a certain brown haired guy, and at a few others he vaguely recognized as being prefects. Formerly prefects that is. There was a distinct shortage of badges on Gryffindor uniforms, and Harry smiled to himself as he realized why. The house charter necessitated that all of the prefects who had approved of the censure bring it to their head of house as soon as possible, which would have been before breakfast. Given the fact that same head of house had used a ministry controlled substance on him the night before in an effort to find his innocence or lack thereof, Harry would have put money on that being a very unpleasant conversation. It was only going to get worse for them too, just as soon as Luna showed up.

Luna arrived to breakfast ten minutes after Harry had, and by that time she sat down at the table with the other students trimmed in blue and bronze, Harry had developed his own predatory expression.

Harry leaned toward her as she began the construction of one of her infamous breakfast creations (todays appeared to be a waffle, strawberry, and bacon sandwich), he whispered conspiratorially, "I was waiting for you, I'm going to go start the fireworks, okay?"

Luna gave an amused nod as she took her first bite into her unholy breakfast, Harry stood and began moving towards the staff table. Professor McGonagall seemed to be relieved as he was still wearing his robes trimmed in red and gold. Harry felt bad for her, it wouldn't look good when he dropped the illusion of the red and gold after his announcement, but he hope she would appreciate that this was for her wayward lions, and in no way reflected on her. Harry knew how much she loved her students, and how much she was afraid to love them after everything and everyone she lost in the first war. His lessons with her had given him a new perspective on her, and he liked what he saw. She was a woman truly worth respect. He really hoped she didn't take this personally.

Harry stopped between the massive tables that covered most of the great hall and the staff table, slowly turning to face the student body. Most everyone had seen the move, and had quieted down to hear what he had to say. Harry began by raising his wand in the air.

"_Id est ut ego dico_," Harry intoned, his magic leaking into his voice, lending it power, "I, Harry James Potter swear on my life and swear on my magic that what I am about to say is true."

There was no aura flaring or anything like that which he had half expected, instead the air just felt pregnant with magic and possibility, like there should be sparks flashing around him.

"I had nothing to do with my entrance into the Triwizard tournament. I would prefer to not be involved with it in any way. I do not know how I was entered. I do not know who entered me. I believe that I was entered by someone whose intent is that I be killed or injured during the tournament. _Ego solum locutus veri."_

As Harry finished the incantation and felt distinctly not dead, he cast a basic _lumos_, to indicate he still had magic, then a _finite_ on his robes, cancelling the illusion of the Gryffindor crest and the red and gold trim. He bowed to the room, shooting the Twins at the Gryffindor table a twinkling look as he walked back to his seat next to Luna. The moment his butt hit the bench, pandemonium broke out in the hall.

"Did I do good?" Harry whispered, leaning closer to her so as not to be overheard.

Her only response was to give him another peck on the cheek, this one messy and strawberry scented. Harry flushed immediately and lost his predatory smile for a goofy grin. His brain moved a few steps back like it had last time, but before doing so had the presence to cast a generously powered notice-me-not on the two of them and the table around them.

* * *

The pair took their time with breakfast, enjoying the island of peace granted to them by Harry's charm. When they had finished their small talk and collective breakfast, Luna took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before heading off to her classes.

She wasn't sure why she was being this bold in her affections. She unknowingly had about as much experience in the romantic arena as Harry had, what she had in her corner however, was the advice of a millennia old sentient castle who had been witness to more relationships than anyone had any right to, and who wanted to connect these two who could sense her.

The Lady of the Castle as Luna called her, was telling her to make these small advances. She had no objections to the advice, and the Lady had never steered her wrong so far. Last night was the best sleep Luna had in years, after all. She'd keep following the advice for now and just hope that Harry was hearing some as well. Besides she had potions to attend, and the Nargles preferred Snape's dungeons to all other places in the castle. She needed to be sure she had her butter beer cork necklace, and she thought she may have left it on her nightstand...

* * *

Harry left the notice-me-not on himself and slipped out of the hall. He had a lot of research to do, and he was secretly glad to have some time without Luna for a bit. She was a huge distraction, and he didn't mind it a bit. He would never get any work done with her around, and he would do it with a smile. He passed a hand through his hair with a sigh. He would have to work this out sooner rather than later, he thought.

He headed towards the library and straight into the restricted section and went directly for the book he had scoped out earlier about elemental magic affinities in materials. If he wanted to strengthen his focus, he needed to find suitable elemental influences to match each point of the Chinese pentagrams he was carving into it.

His research into arithmancy had said the simplest form he could make to bring the forces together in harmony would be to superimpose three pentagrams over one another. As long as he carved and charged the three separately, they would remain distinct pentagrams, but the arithmetic power of three would bring them together to form a greater whole strength than the sum of the parts.

He spent the day hammering out what caused a material to have an elemental leaning and what constituted a magical influence. The elements used by the ancient Chinese mages: wood, metal, fire, earth, and water, all were elemental leanings that were relatively common. He even had access to sample of some of the materials for free right here at Hogwarts. The rest he planned on going to his goblin contacts for. He made a mental note to ask someone about the budget the champions got.

* * *

About Dinner time he finished his list and decided to not show up at the great hall, let the Gryffs sweat it out a bit. He made his way to the kitchens via the owlery to send off for an estimate from the goblins on how much acquiring all of his materials would run him. He still hadn't spent much time on the idea of using Tebo leather, or how he would cure it for use in a focus. He also used a non-descript brown owl from the school to shoot a scrap of parchment to Sirius telling him about being entered into the tournament. The old dog deserved to know.

He would bring Nev, Luna, and the Twins to his lab to let them all know where he would be for the next few days. He had a lot of basic research he had to do, and not showing his face in public would unnerve the Gryffindors more. He refused to take their behavior lightly, and they deserved to deal with uncertainty for a bit.

When he got to the kitchens, he saw a frenzy of activity. The food was already cooked, but as soon as any serving plate up in the hall went empty it had to be refilled from below. A number of elves noticed him, but he had been a much more frequent visitor than many they had in the past, so his presence was interesting but not that remarkable. He sought out the head elf, an ancient looking creature that went by the name Nifty, and asked for a minute of his time.

"What can Nifty do for one of our young masters?", the old elf said as he walked up to Harry, supplementing every other step with a comically small cane.

"Hello Nifty, I had a couple questions for you. First, I think that unless it would cause trouble for you all, I'd like to eat my meals down here with the elves for a while, and I'd like your permission to do that. Second, if you do permit me to be down here with you all during meal times, I'd like to know if there is any task I can help contribute to. I'd feel bad taking your hospitality down here and not giving anything back. Finally I want to know if there is any kind of treat or food or drink you all like. I had a terrible day yesterday, and when I finally went to go to sleep, I think one of your elves switched the cot I was using with a bed. It was amazingly kind of them to have done it after the day I had. It made me realize how much you all have done for me over the years, and I want to use my own money and resources to do something for you, if you'll have it."

Harry got it all out in a rant. His only real interaction with house elves had been with Dobby, who was accounted as being an oddball even among the race of supposed oddball creatures. He knew Dobby would freak at the offer of his helping, and at the offer of a gift, and he really hoped that Nifty would have a more even keel. The old elf seemed to be studying him as these thoughts ran through his head.

"Young master means well and is genuine. But young master does not know much of house elves, does he?"

"No sir," Harry replied. He knew that nominally this elf worked for him, but the elf also seemed old and wise enough to deserve the honorific.

"Nifty thought so. Let Nifty first say we would love to have you down here with us. The bearded master does not like students eating down here every day, but the castle speaks to old Nifty, and the castle says no trouble will come," Nifty cleared his throat and looked off into the distance while he continued, "Nifty knows young master meant no offense with his offer to help, but young master must know, to offer to help a house elf in work is deadly insult to the elf. It is usually a sign by the master that he does not think his elf can do the job correctly. Young master was not raised into magic, Nifty can tell, so young master had no way of knowing. Nifty takes no offense."

Harry's face had fallen at that revelation. Years and years of being the cook and cleaner had left him often feeling out of place during meal times here. He thought maybe he could contribute...

Nifty continued, "Nifty will talk to Nifty's elves, they will understand and feel no insult. Would young master be willing to wash dishes?," Harry nodded enthusiastically, "Then young master can come around after dinner and help after tomorrow. Nifty needs some time to tell elves. For young master's last request, Nifty is not sure what to answer. The elves in this castle have everything they need provided by Castle and by bearded master. We want nothing. But young master can give us all a great gift, it will take much from master for a day or so though."

Harry really appreciated the news that there was something he could give the elves. He really wanted to thank them. Maybe it was seeing Hermione's pitiful efforts with SPEW and her knitting, or just the bed last night, but he knew how much they did. He remembered practically being a house elf for most of his life. Harry felt some nerves if Nifty was this hesitant about the gift he could give, but he resolved to do whatever it was as long as it didn't kill or bankrupt him.

"Young master, house elves need magic to live. We use it, but we have none of our own. We do not have ties into it, we feel it and see it, but without bond to a family or a place like the castle we have no source of it. If you want to do something for us, add magic to our bond to the castle. It will strengthen all of us, and there is little we would appreciate more."

Harry nodded, it made sense, and it explained why it would leave him drained, "Can we do it later tonight?"

"Nifty needs some time to collect all of Nifty's elves. We will all come for you tonight when you are alone in your lab."

With all of his house elf problems solidly resolved, Harry left the kitchens and waited in the entrance hall under a light notice me not for his friends. As he waited in the hall, he noticed a large number of Hufflepuffs talking about him as they exited the hall. Harry was surprised by how many of them weren't frothing at the mouth with rage about him. Their loyalty to Cedric was assured. Harry honestly didn't expect his oath the day before to do anything to general public opinion. He had really only made it to hurt the Gryffindors. Maybe the school wouldn't be entirely hostile this year...

As Harry mused about the sheeple's tendency to love or hate him with no middle ground, he snagged his crowd from those leaving the hall, giving each a quick touch to key them into his ward and apply it to them as well. With everyone together, he wordlessly made his way towards the abandoned east wing. The Twins and Neville were content to just follow Harry and let an explanation slide while Luna simply stared around dreamily.

Harry showed them to his lab, and told them that he was gonna be there for a few days. The professors knew about his use of the lab, so they didn't need to worry about him. Harry also made sure to override any explanations on the behalf of the lions present. Harry knew these people, he didn't need any kind of assurance to know they had nothing to do with the censure. Hell, Harry thought, the Twins were more likely to have a party for him than be angry with him over the tournament.

Shortly after he sent his friends back to their respective common rooms, Nifty popped into his lab with what seemed like nearly one hundred fifty other elves. The room itself seemed to expand and size itself to the huge crowd of diminutive creatures. Harry suspected Lady Hogwarts had a hand in that, the warm glow he got in response spoke of approval for what he was doing. She loved her elves as much as she loved her students.

Nifty linked arms after a few words with Harry and the collected legion of house elves, with all of the elves linking arms and forming a massive network of touching hands and grasping elongated Elvin fingers. Harry put his hands on Nifty's shoulders and closed his eyes, for one glorious moment he felt what it was to be a house elf. He understood the joy of service to the castle, and he felt their gratitude. He opened the floodgates on his own power, and used his connection to magic to bring as much power as he could possibly manage through himself and into the connection between the castle and the elves.

The connection and flow of power lasted for just a moment, but Harry felt every ounce of power flow through him and into the elves. When he opened his eyes again, every elf in the room seemed visibly taller and just a little sturdier, as if they had each spent a few months lifting weights in the last few seconds. Harry quickly found the limit of the power he could lend them, and slowed and stopped the flow of power as he reached it. Before he could even think about collapsing into something soft and not moving for a long time, an elf moved him over to where his bed hid beneath a work bench.


	11. Chapter 10: Elves and Triwizard Troubles

Chapter 10

The next morning brought a small surprise for Harry, as he woke to what felt like the small hum of distant voices in the back of his head. While he slowly made his way through grogginess towards being actually awake, he tried to find the source of the voices. After spending a quarter hour staring at his wall and trying to figure out what it was he was hearing, he finally pinned it down.

He was hearing the small talk and general conversation of the house elves. Damn, he thought to himself, I must have put a _lot_ more into the bond than I thought I did. Almost as soon as the thought left his head, an elf he had never seen before (from the back of his mind he knew with certainty that the elf's name was Tulip, and she was the daughter of an Elvin couple that were members of the grounds crew) popped into his lab and handed him a strong cup of tea.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir. We's never had as much energy in our bond as we's do now. We's almost not sure what to do with it all!," she threw her hands up in the air at this, Harry reflected that he had never seen such an expressive elf outside of Dobby, "We's used a small part of the energy you gave us to keep a bit of the connection between us open. It makes it easier for us to helps you if you need it. We's thought it was the least we could do."

Tulip gave a curtsy and popped away to another task. Harry sent her a mental thank you and got the curious sensation of a mental smile in response. He spent a moment lamenting his tendency towards absolute weirdness, but simply gave it up as a bad job. He couldn't do normal if he tried. At least the tea was very good.

When he finished his tea he went down to the kitchens and grabbed a small breakfast. He pledged his help to the elves with the dinner dishes, and went back to his lab to get further into the notebook he had received from Ollivander just a month ago.

The Tebo was a magical warthog-like creature, a class 4 according to the ministry. It, like most warthogs, was very tough and was a true survivor type while in its own element. It was remarkable for its ability to become completely invisible, and it's hide was prized for its affinity for disillusionment and strength in general as protective clothing. It had nothing on dragon hide, but was extremely useful in its own right.

The notebook Ollivander had given him detailed a very specific curing and tanning process for the hide that would allow it to be used as a focus for magical energy. The Tebo was a native of the Congo and areas of Zaire, and the groups of magic users who used its hide for focuses in that region generally made traditional tribal shields. They channeled truly impressive amounts of defensive magic through them too, if Ollivander's notes were to be believed.

Ollivander had made some notes in the margins on how he felt the process could be altered for the channeling of more general magic but his notes were theoretical, and from what Harry understood, shaky at best. He ran his hand through his hair idly as he read further and further through the notebook. It looked like what he was doing was going to be fairly new and almost completely unique. The plans Harry had made for the use of the pentagrams would help stabilize magic as it passed through and was focused by the bracer he planned to make, but the problem was the hide itself. The curing process Ollivander described made the hide ripe for channeling defensive magic, but it would be rubbish for any other charms, and Harry shuddered to think what it would be like if he attempted to use it for his own favored path, transfiguration.

The potions used in the tanning process, Harry found, were just general tanning potions mixed with a tiny amount of the user's blood, then used in a precise manner. It looked like the active magical influence in the defensive usage of the hide was the hide itself, and the blood was just to ensure the magical signatures matched. So maybe if he modified the tanning process to inundate the leather with another magical influence? Or maybe he could enhance the rigidity of the bracer by applying layers of a magically reactive lacquer? It frustrated Harry to no end that he could actually use the guidance of a potions master with this project, but Snape would hit himself with a _crucio_ where the sun didn't shine before he helped his dead rival's son.

All of this called for a lot of research, not the least of which would be into whether or not he could even get a supply of the leather for his use. If nothing else, it was an excellent starting off point, and he really didn't want to be set back to square one by not even being able to use Tebo Leather, if he could help it at least. This led him back to the goblins. He had sent off Hedwig yesterday with a list of things he needed to Gemshaper and Ragnok.

Goblins, he suspected based on his interactions with them in the past, were nothing if not paragons of efficiency. Harry would be very surprised to not have a response from them today. He quickly took measurements from his arm for a basic size, then multiplied it by 4 and wrote a note similar to the one he had already sent asking after prices and availability. He'd swing by the owlery when he went up to the library later.

With a thought, Harry called out to Tulip again, and she popped into being in front of him.

"Hows can I help you, Master Harry Potter Sir?"

Harry began with a smile, "You can just call me Harry, and I'm sorry to bother you again, but aside from Nifty you're the only elf whose name I know. Where does mail go when a student isn't in the great hall to receive it?"

"It's no problem, master Harry, we's always happy to help," Her face lit with a smile at this, "If an owl arrives with no one to deliver to, they gives their delivery to us elves, and we get it to the student."

"Tulip, could you do me a favor and ask the elves that take care of mail to bring my mail here, to my lab?"

"Of course, Master Harry, sir!"

And just as Harry began to say thanks, she popped away. Harry shook his head with a grin, the elves were a little crazy, but were certainly helpful. He loved the lot of them.

Harry stood up and stretched, it was about lunch time, so he applied his usual notice-me-not to himself, and set off to the kitchen. He set the spell on himself at this point just to keep attention off of him in the halls. The professors knew where to find him, or Flitwick did at any rate, and Luna had people to sit with so he had no reason to let anyone see him. That and it amused him to let the Gryffindors suffer by not knowing where he was. If he was any judge of the mood in the lion's tower, he knew that they would be going spare trying to find him to apologize and try to make up for losing face in front of the other houses like that. Harry also imagined that the folks who lost prefect and captaincy positions would be trying to get in his good graces for the hope that he would put in a good word with McGonagall for them.

All in all it added up to an incredibly annoying hallway situation for him. A notice-me-not was just good policy for now. He'd deal with it in two or three days. He didn't want to go for much longer without his friends, and he could fill these days with a lot of research. He finished his lunch, renewed his vow to help with the dinner dishes, and hit the library.

* * *

Three days later, Harry had made a lot of progress, and had a lot of fun at the expense of the Gryffindors. Evidently Gred and Forge had never considered the benefits of over powered notice-me-nots as applied to the noble art and science of pranking. The tower had been hell for the last day or so, for anyone whose name was on the paper Harry had incinerated at least.

Harry made sure his uniforms were house color free, and waited near where the staircase that dropped the 'Claws out next to the Great Hall. After waiting for just a few minutes, his favorite raven made her dreamy way down to the hall, and he followed her inside, snagging a seat next to her.

"Morning, Luna," He said brightly.

Harry didn't think he could rightly call what she said a response, it was more like a mumbled slurry of offensive and borderline racist expletives. He found her continuing aversion to the morning hilarious. He honestly didn't know she had this level of vitriol in her, she was so bubbly usually!

"Ah, I missed you too!," He said as he poured her a second coffee, to replace the first that she had made vanish somehow between two blinks.

It was still early for the regular student population. Not many missed breakfast, so Harry expected the rumor mill to get into gear in around a half hour. It was actually a surprising trend that the worst of the gossips made it to breakfast late. The Ravenclaw table hosted a few Beauxbatons students who decided they like a solid English breakfast, or in the case of a few students decided they like a solid Englishman. Harry thought it seemed pretty quick for them to be snogging during breakfast, the schools had only been together a week or so, but what did he know.

The hall got louder and louder as more people moved slowly in. Harry waved Neville over to him, and Luna began the construction of one of her unholy breakfast monstrosities (today it was toast surrounding pancakes, eggs, a smattering of bacon, and a light drizzle of syrup).

Halfway through breakfast, the Gryffs finally noticed the lack of a Neville, and consequently the presence of a Harry. Harry picked up on it because the volume jumped up a big step and he heard his name being whispered in drastically increasing amounts from their direction. Less than five minutes after they noticed him, a delegation of former prefects and Angelina made a tentative approach to him. Harry shot a glance at the staff table, it seemed McGonagall was as anxious as the approaching group, this was going to go poorly for all of them and he really only felt bad for Minerva. He really hoped he could talk to her later about this.

"Harry," Began the brown haired seventh year prefect, before Harry interjected, "No, sorry, my friends call me Harry, I'd prefer Mr. Potter."

He wasn't going to give them an inch. Even a year previously he might have, but he'd gone too far. Too much had happened. He might have felt bad if he had burned the bridge, but the Gryffs had set fire to it and he felt no real desire to rebuild. The prefect looked a strange combination of angry and ashamed at this.

"Mr. Potter then, we all," He indicated the group behind him, "wanted to ask you to come back and eat at the Gryffindor table. We want to officially apologize for the act of censure, we made it without all the information we needed, and it was wrong. We would like to ask you to put our colors back on your uniform, we would be honored if you would."

Harry took a moment to make them sweat further, and to finish his sip of tea.

"Nah, I'm good how I am. Thanks though."

The group looked stunned. In fact the whole hall seemed stunned. He had really been the purest Gryffindor since he first arrived. From his going to save the stone to his going for Sirius the year previous, he charged forward with the best of them. Harry figured none of the people in the hall saw this coming. Even Dumbledore in his golden chair at the front of the hall seemed to display a ghost of surprise on his face.

In truth, Harry didn't care anymore. He may not have years of history with them, but he found a couple real friends who weren't jealous or rude (Luna before eleven am notwithstanding). He even had the love and support of the Lady Hogwarts. He, for once, had no need of the people in front of him. They had wronged him at the end of a very bad day for him, and he didn't think he could forgive them.

An angry Ron moved forward in the group, "A _real_ Gryffindor would come back and forgive us, we just made a mistake! You have to forgive us! I'm your best mate, you should talk to me at least!"

Harry took a bite of the rasher of bacon on his plate and decided to seize on the first part of Ron's rage filled proclamation, "Guess I'm not a real Gryffindor then, huh?"

Harry made a request of the Lady, he knew it was a little vindictive, but it seemed she shared a bit of his anger with the group before him as the sword of Gryffindor materialized in his hand on the table before him.

"Sure makes this awkward, doesn't it?," Harry said while giving the sword a bit of a wave, much like a child would while playing at being a knight and pretending a stick was a sword, before he simply let it go. As it left his hand, the Lady reclaimed it and moved it back to the display case in the headmaster's office. Harry idly wondered if he could do that on his own, he was the one to reclaim the sword after all. Around him the hall floundered, even the foreign students didn't know what to make of him magically conjuring a jeweled sword without using a wand, and banishing it just as easily. McGonagall had her hands over her face in shame, and the group in front of him was, to a man, wide mouthed in confusion and awe of the boy they had so snuffed.

Harry hadn't meant to make as much of a statement as he had. He had just wanted to tell them off a bit, the whole thing with the sword had been very spur of the moment. He wasn't sure where to go from here, and he had really painted his former housemates into a corner in terms of viable responses. He looked down at his plate, and found that he was basically done with his breakfast. So Harry stood up, and looked to Neville and Luna.

"Meet you two for some study time after lunch?," Two nods met this, "Library?," Two more nods, "Okay, see you then." He gave Luna's hand a squeeze this time.

Harry looked over at the Gryffindor table to see his two red-headed brothers staring at him in awe. He shot them both a wink, "Gonna join us, guys?," Two more nods. Harry took a page out of the twin's book, and gave them all something to stare at. He threw a jaunty salute to the room at large, and reflected that he really needed to learn how to actually whistle as he left the hall.

* * *

The next day was Sunday, November 6th, 1994. Harry Potter had a lot to do. In defense of his new discovered work ethic, his work was all due to the day before, and most of it consisted of meeting with his professors and reestablishing contact. He had not really spoken to any of them in about a week. By this time usually he would have had about two or three extra lessons apiece from McGonagall and Flitwick, and he knew that it was his fault. He also knew that he really did not want to meet with an irate and magically powerful Scotswoman, or an irate and damn impressive four time European dueling cup champion. He had to. They deserved better after all.

He owed McGonagall his first meeting. Not only was she more likely to kill him (at least he'd be spared Flitwick's wrath that way, or worse, his disappointment), but she was his head of house, and he hadn't spoken to her after all his decidedly hostile acts towards said house. He set up a meeting with her for after breakfast that day.

He entered her office full of trepidation, and he found her with a curious mix of sad and stern on her face. She looked as if she was going to start out the meeting and went as far as opening her mouth, but before she got the chance Harry wanted to get his feelings out first.

"Wait! Please, let me say my piece first. I really want to apologize to you. I'm sorry for not talking to you at any point during the last few days, and I'm very sorry for not talking to you about any of the things I've done in public for the last few days. I know how much you value our house pride, and I know how much it must have hurt seeing your lions and my reaction to them in the last few days. I know it must have hurt you, especially with the other schools here, and I really want you to know that despite what it looked like I meant nothing I did to reflect on you. My house abandoned me, and it came at the end of a terrible day, which was after a number of bad years. I've never had a lot of support here, and after what they said I was just done. I won't apologize for what I did, but I will wholeheartedly apologize for any stress or shame it caused you."

He looked contrite because he felt it. Harry genuinely liked McGonagall. She had her faults, she hadn't ever really listened to him before, between the stone, the basilisk, and what he was now calling the Sirius debacle. She had sat back during the whole heir of Slytherin thing as well. All in all she had done him a number of disservices.

This year she had come close to making up for her indiscretions. She had noticed him in classes. She had taken him on for extra tuition with a will, and she had been the one to give him a truth potion to prove his innocence. What's more, when she did it she gave him a choice. On balance, she probably had done less good than harm to him, but he could sense the person behind her stern appearance. It peeked through during their extra lessons. He saw the woman who had survived a war and losing her husband, only to come out the other side and still be a real person. He liked her, and that meant the world to him.

Her indiscretions, as Harry had put it internally, had not escaped her. She had, in fact, spent the days Harry had hidden himself away from the world thinking about just that. She couldn't believe the stupidity of those among her cubs that she had put in charge. Her heart bled when Harry spoke one of the oldest forms of wizarding oaths on his life and magic. The son of her two favorite students should have never been pushed to that.

Before he had interrupted her she had been about to make a similar apology to him. His words had warmed her heart. She knew he couldn't fail to be aware of how she had failed him since he came into the wizarding world. That he was willing to beat her to the punch and display his care before her own worried expression gave way to a worried apology. She was a little angry, to be sure, but she and her cubs deserved what they had gotten.

"Harry... I don't know where to begin. I... a part of me wants to hex you and a part of me wants to cry. And if you tell another soul I said that you won't see graduation," she said, a hint of humor shining through their mutual concern, "I want to ask you to come back to the tower, don't think I missed you sleeping in that lab of yours. I want to tell you to accept Brickleburry's apology," so_ that_ was the seventh year's name, Harry thought. It had been bugging him a little, "but I can't. We deserve what you've done, as much as I don't like it."

Harry saw her concern. It validated what he had already been feeling, so he tried for the middle ground for them, "Can we call it even? Would you still be willing to teach me above your normal lessons?"

Minerva smiled, "Of course. I hoped you used your time off well, because I plan on working you hard until the first task. Professors and members of each school may not be able to offer extra assistance, but our lessons predate the tournament, so we may safely continue them."

Harry returned her smile. They ironed out the details of his extra lessons and finished the conversation in an amiable mood. Harry was glad that she had thought about her actions in regards to him from previous years. Not only did it show she cared, but it entirely justified his writing off of her earlier behavior. They parted with her giving him a muggle book on the idea of the infinite (he had managed a permanent conjuration of a small stone, but anything bigger and he still lost it) called Infinity and the Mind: The Science and Philosophy of the Infinite. Like her others, he figured the math would escape him, but the philosophy would likely get him somewhere closer to what he wanted.

* * *

He met with Flitwick after lunch, and surprisingly his conversation had little to do with his performance in the great hall or his disappearance from his classes.

"Mr. Potter...," Harry audibly gulped and looked nervous at the address, "Harry," Flitwick continued with a smile, "I have recently received a communication from the clan halls of my old home. A communication from the highest levels, the clan chief himself, a man I would have never hoped to speak with, even with my accomplishments among us wand-bearers," the half goblin's smile grew to much larger and more terrifying proportions, "The esteemed Ragnok, a warrior and banker both worthy of his title, sent me a missive asking my opinion of one Harry James Potter. He said that he had received a letter from this student using all of the old and correct forms of address and respect, bearing the recommendation of the master wand crafter Ollivander himself. A curious order for what he could only assume would form the basis of an incredibly powerful magical focus. He wished to know if I felt this student was one of the few wand-bearers to truly appreciate the craft of enchantment, and one of the few who would be a friend to our nation."

Harry's head was swimming. He was honestly terrified. He had sent his letter exactly as Ollivander's notes had specified. He had used only the highest forms of respect he could find. He remembered the nip he had gotten from Hedwig when he had told her that it was especially important that she show as much dignity and respect as she could muster (She had seemed to say, as if I would do anything less!). How could he have missed that he was corresponding to the clan chief of the Gringotts goblins! Any mistake could lead to an interspecies conflict! If he had messed up badly he could have an entire clan of angry goblins declare war on him!

"Er... What did you tell him, sir?"

"Nothing but the truth," Fillius paused and a visible bead of sweat formed on Harry's forehead, "That one Harry James Potter was a student as good as his mother, a veritable prodigy, that he had a talent for enchantment I haven't seen since my days in the mines of my father's people. That my student wasn't a goblin-friend," Harry had a near heart attack, he had soaked in some of Binn's favorite and only topic, he had no desire to be on the wrong side of goblin steel, "He was a friend period, goblin or no goblin had nothing to do with it."

Flitwick was obviously enjoying playing Harry like a violin. He knew his people's reputation for violence at the slightest offense to their honor, and he knew how well deserved it was.

"Harry, I believe you might find Mistress of Procurement Gemshaper, and her much esteemed mate, happy to deal with you. Your family have traditionally all been well respected by the goblin nation. The Potters have more often than not held your own beliefs regarding other magical sentients. Have no fear, my friend."

Flitwick looked on Harry fondly. He deserved the scares he had gotten for his behavior recently, but Fillius truly did count the boy among his friends. In their private lessons, he had gotten to know Harry, and in doing so he lost what he had felt about the boy-who-lived and gained quite a bit more. The boy reminded the half-goblin so much of both his parents.

Generations of prejudice on all sides had left Fillius quite unable to find a mate, but in many ways he considered every one of his ravens and many of the students at Hogwarts his own children. He was a much loved professor for the passion he got from that sentiment. Only the blind, deaf, and dumb would doubt his mastery of his discipline, and he brought that to all of his children. Harry was moving rapidly from another one of his brood, to the place of an honored companion. He had brought a fresh wind of passion into the diminutive professor's life, and Flitwick tried to treat him accordingly.

They too, ironed out their schedules for extra lessons. Flitwick also expressed his understanding of Harry's difficulties with his house, and gave his blessing to Harry living out of his lab for the foreseeable future (with the obvious caveat that he take appropriate precautions towards his own safety).

* * *

Harry's day continued apace. An elf (Nothe, son of the previous caretakers of the owlery, Harry was getting better with their names) delivered more mail from Sirius, who was in no uncertain terms unimpressed with Harry's entrance into the tournament. The old dog had a few choice words about Dumbledore and Moody both, each of whom he felt should have been equal to the task of guarding a stationary cup from any of these shenanigans.

Sirius said that he wanted to come back to England, but Harry had anticipated that and shouted him down. Well, he had asked Hedwig to deliver a letter and batter him about the head until he agreed to not come by. Harry figured that if Padfoot was able to send increasingly flamboyant birds (who knew a peacock could actually deliver a letter, honestly? As if anyone missed _that_ swooping down into the great hall) back with letters, he was likely in a much better place than he could ever find here in the Scottish highlands.

In typical Padfoot style though, there was a gem buried underneath his amusing insults to Snape and some physically improbable scenarios between Harry and, "The bird I refuse to name in defense of her honor and my bodily integrity" (he had gone as far as 'Lovegood by name, love very good by reputation' once before Harry mentioned the stunning new neutering techniques the mundanes were investigating). Sirius had asked a very good question. All of the champions were from a specific school, and had a person on the judging panel. What school had he been entered under, and who did he have to represent his interests as part of the board of judges?

Harry sent an owl off to both Mr. Crouch and Dumbledore. He figured one or the other would either know the answer, or help him. He was sure there were stringent rules governing the board of judges, and he would honestly be surprised if he was not allowed one by the rules. In his experience things were never fair though, so held little actual hope.

He ate dinner with Luna and Nev, both of whom he was glad to spend time with again. He needed his three days apart from everyone to get his head back on straight, but he had sorely missed their influence. Neville was timid, but very, very grounded (no plant pun intended, Harry thought sourly), he was an amazing connection to reality. Luna was so all over the place that she brought Harry out of his head. He tended to reflect everything that happened inward, and she simply _was_ the most amazing possible way to break him out of his normal brooding.

As dinner ended, he took Luna's hand beneath the table and gave it a squeeze. It had become kind of a thing for them, and he had missed it during his self-imposed exile. The Lady of the Castle spent a little time each day reassuring both of them that they weren't doing anything wrong, and to have courage. They each separately took that advice to heart, and for the two that small connection at the end of their meals together was a balm to each of their weary souls. Harry, a scarred recovering victim of abuse, and Luna, a daughter without a real caretaker and no one to speak to. Neither knowing what to do, but both moving forward nonetheless.

Harry left his friends in the entrance hall and after a confrontation with Malfoy (Potter Stinks? Really? His brain dead cousin could do better at half Malfoy's age) he sunk his annoyance down into his center, and made his way to the kitchens to assist in doing the dishes.

The elves rarely let him do more than scrub plates, and then only the ones most lightly soiled. He knew that they could do their job faster without him, and he also knew they had constructed him a special sink and area of counter space out of the way of the rest of their work. He could feel their appreciation for the respect he was trying to show them though. When they left the small connection open to him after he gave them that boost, Nifty had not needed to talk to anyone about him helping out. They couldn't hear him well in their own communication network, but they could feel why he wanted to do it, and they were more than happy to let him do something small to help. He had basically been a house elf for the first decade of his life, after all.

* * *

Harry's days found a strange routine for the next few weeks until the First Task. He spent most of his day in the library surrounded by pages of arithmetic calculations and potions references. Many Gryffindors had set out to find him, but a day spent studying warding lent itself to the warding of a table in the back of the library with a permanent notice me not attached to it, keyed only to Harry and his friends. Harry had a minor confrontation with Madam Pince over it, but in return for showing her the charms Bill had taught him to hide his illegal _Arcanum_ and an explanation of how they could be used on the entire restricted section, she chose to let his table go.

Harry made sure to meet his friends between classes, and with his rapidly expanding understanding of how magic was channeled, as well as general transfiguration and charms, he helped all of them make quick work of their homework. Neville benefited most from his help, as with a wand actually tuned to him he was quickly coming to challenge Hermione for first to finish a spell correctly in practicals.

After classes finished for the day he spent a considerable amount of time with McGonagall and Flitwick. He finally found the understanding, or perhaps mental attitude necessary to permanently conjure almost anything. Some things resisted conjuration, gold and what Minerva called mithril (Harry suspected it was something like titanium or aluminum, and was surprised she didn't know given her muggle references for infinity) he could only do in very small amounts. McGonagall was astounded that he could do it at all, and after their third lesson experimenting with it she finally told him why. Gold and mithril were magically reactive, and it was theoretically impossible for anyone to conjure them permanently, most masters could only barely do it temporarily. It seemed he had the penchant for breaking rules that Snape had always accused him of after all.

He corresponded with his goblin contacts a few times. It turned out that a number of his ingredients were proving difficult to track down. Re'em blood, freely given metamorphmagus hair, and unadulterated Tebo hide being among the worst offenders. Their correspondence, when Harry read between the lines, seemed to indicate that Gemshaper was frustrated she couldn't get a hold of his requests more quickly, so Harry made sure to tell her that speed was not a priority. Ideally he'd have them all before the second task, whatever it turned out to be.

* * *

Harry's schedule was interrupted only twice during the lead up to the task. First came a few days after his owls to the Headmaster and Mr. Crouch. He was invited to the headmaster's office (Spider's eyes? Harry looked up the candy later and they turned out to be a magical jawbreaker. He had lived amongst spiders enough to have no interest.) and he arrived to find an argument running between the ministry representative and the esteemed headmaster.

It seemed the rules were in his favor, and Mr. Crouch was insisting another judge be added, and for some reason he also seemed adamant that it be Moody. The man in question was in the corner of the room, his eye spinning wildly, and with every appearance of being ready to be attacked in the headmaster's own office.

Dumbledore seemed equally adamant that the traditions be maintained as much as possible in the face of the change of a fourth contestant. His comments, which were so verbose Harry didn't feel the need to pay any special attention to them, seemed to indicate he felt he was a more than adequate representative for both Harry and Cedric.

Harry sat through them trading the same points back and forth for over half an hour before realizing he was missing the beginning of dinner with Luna (and Neville he amended internally), so he decided to speak up.

"Do any of you have my piece of parchment from the goblet?," his words seemed to catch the two men off guard, as they had actually forgotten he had been invited for the discussion.

Dumbledore opened a number of drawers in his desk, and after a moment of searching and a murmured _accio _he produce the slip in question. He handed it to Harry, and after an instant's glance, Harry declared, "I have no listed school. So I am simply in a category all my own. Headmaster, you can't represent me, because you should be looking out for Cedric, he is the only real Hogwarts champion. I need someone involved in the decision making and planning who is there to look out for me and me alone. Why don't you let me have Professor Flitwick? He has always been fair to me, he isn't my own head of house and so won't be biased strongly for me, and all of the other professors either have less experience than him, or are obviously biased in another direction."

Harry's moment of insight seemed to tip the scales in Crouch's favor, though he did have a somewhat pained look on his face when it was decided that Flitwick would in fact represent Harry instead of Moody. Harry was glad, even outside his terrifying appearance the strange man had been giving Harry the willies all year long. Harry hadn't had a vision or bleeding scar since he entered the castle and the protection of the Lady Hogwarts, something about Moody reminded him of the visions.

The second interruption came in the form of an event Harry nearly missed. The elves had woken him up early, Tulip was actually the one to pop in and wake him. Members of the grounds crew (Tulip's family) had been called in to prepare a large clearing in the forbidden forest, and they had discovered what they felt would be part of the first task.

The elves had been forbidden to reveal any details of the competition to any of the champions, but they had gotten together and with a strange sense of urgency had told Harry it would be in his best interests to take a walk near the forest.

Harry reflected that he hadn't spent a day outside the castle in far too long, and without any further ideas had decided to just go visit Hagrid. Harry had seen his first friend during classes and spoke to him then, but he hadn't had the time this year to visit him in his house. When Harry made his way through the November weather to the half-giant's cabin, he found it surprisingly empty. Harry guessed his friend simply had class or was out somewhere, and found himself simply wandering absently around the edge of the forest.

More than once he noticed compulsions of middling strength slide across the outside of his shield, but without any other data he just assumed it was something the professors had started doing to keep people like his brothers away from the Acromantula colony. If his memories were right, they were between the school and the colony anyway.

After whiling most of the day away outside, a visibly upset Colin Creevey ran up to him out of breath.

"HARRY! _huff huff huff _Harry! _huff huff _ need you inside _huff _late for meeting."

Harry grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulders to steady him. He looked like he had run around the entirety of Hogwarts, and Harry suspected that was actually what happened as Colin was looking for him.

Once Colin had caught his breath he explained Harry was needed at a meeting for the tournament inside, and they had been combing the castle for him for over an hour. The younger Gryffindor led Harry through the halls to a room that contained a very bored looking collection of people.

A sleeping photographer with a hat over his face sat in the corner of the room, and a very bored Ludo Bagman was sitting next to Crouch and Ollivander, who were idly discussing applications of mind magics. When Harry entered the room, Bagman kicked the photographer's chair, and Crouch and Ollivander stood and motioned him over to the table they sat at. Bagman crossed to Harry and shook his hand.

"Harry Potter! Good to see you, we've been looking all over for you! What with you taking champion's privileges to get out of all of your classes we had a devil of a time doing it too! Eventually Mr. Creevey here thought to ask a house elf were you were and was sent out to retrieve you. You missed the other champions, but we still need you to have your wand looked at!"

It turned out Harry had missed the other champions and most of the press at what was supposed to be a 'Weighing of the Wands'. It was supposed to be a ceremony to ensure their most important equipment was ready for the competition, though it meant nothing to him even beyond the fact that he didn't want to compete. Ollivander took a cursory glance at his wand, knowing as he did that Harry probably hadn't used it for a few months. Bagman was having a word with Colin, about what sounded like where he had found Harry.

With the loosely observed formalities out of the way, Harry went to the photographer. He had a couple photos taken of him, and before the man could pack up completely to leave, Harry took him aside, "Hey, is it possible to get a small statement in with you? I'm guessing I missed the reporters, which is fine in my book, but I'd like to get a word in if I could."

The man agreed (A word from the boy-who-lived? Who knew, maybe he could get a pay bump out of this!) and Harry went on, "I'm sorry I was so hard to find, but I'm glad I missed everyone at the weighing. I'm only in this competition by accident. I had nothing to do with my entrance, and I would rather not be involved. Cedric is the real champion from Hogwarts, and Delacour and Krum are the real other champions."

The photographer took his statement and shook his hand before he left, the rest quickly following suit. Harry left and resumed his prowling the outskirts of the forest, only to find that the compulsions he had noticed earlier were orders of magnitude stronger. Harry paused.

Why would they be stronger, he thought. Nothing changed since Colin found me out here... except that Colin found me out here. They knew I was out here. They're hiding something in the forest!

Harry gave himself a smack in the head. He had been able to resist the compulsion before, but now it was too strong for his shields. He could try to overpower it and break through, but he'd put galleons to knuts that they had someone watching him now. He missed his chance to figure out the first task


	12. Chapter 11: The First Task

Chapter 11 - The First Task

Harry knew he had missed his chance. He also knew that Dumbledore at the very least knew of his invisibility cloak, so even that way was sure to be blocked by some ward. He tried his broom, only to find that a huge section of the forest seemed to be covered by some kind of obscuring ward. Even a supersensory charm placed on a telescope on the astronomy tower couldn't get him anywhere. He had just missed his chance.

Harry wrote it off. The elves had given him a good tip but he lost it. He might have to ask them to get together for another power boost for their effort. He'd wait though. There was a bare week between the weighing of the wands and the task. He had spent most of it following his schedule and using off time to try to pierce the obscuring on the forest. He didn't try too hard though, that would be cheating in any case.

Moody had taken to surprising him in odd places and asking if he had a plan, and when assured that Harry had it under control, asking after the specifics of his plan. Harry honestly didn't really care. He wasn't taking it seriously, his actual plan was just to get there the day of and not die in whatever way would make his adopted brothers most proud of him.

The aforementioned brothers, as well as Luna and Neville, had only asked after Harry's plans once. They had seen his ability to use wandless magic, and they had seen the rise in his general skill level after his 'secret' lessons with McGonagall. Harry assured them all that he was as prepared as he could be for anything short of a nundu, and they believed him.

Harry thought he could apply his work in transfiguration to any kind of battle scenario, and his mastery of summoning, banishing, vanishing, and animation made him pretty confident he could take whatever came at him. Confidence was something the former abuse victim was unused to.

* * *

The morning of the 24th dawned cold and clear. It was a Thursday, and all classes had been cancelled after lunch to provide the afternoon for the day's festivities. Harry woke feeling a bit like he had before his first ever quidditch game.

The students practically vibrated with ill-concealed enthusiasm for the show in the afternoon. For that matter Harry could feel the Lady Hogwarts respond to the feeling in the air, she was excited and radiated only a little concern for him. If he really had to guess, she seemed to agree with his friends, if Harry said he could do it, he could probably do it.

Many of the staff appeared more worried than ever, though the other champions seemed to bear it all well. Malfoy was publicly taking bets as to how long Harry would last, giving some pretty outrageous odds on anything past about five minutes.

The 'Potter Stinks' badges were making a huge appearance. Near any teachers they were spelled to go back to the 'Support Diggory' message, but most of the snakes were taking a lot of joy in flashing them at him wherever he went. Harry honestly was not physically capable of caring less than he did. As much as he didn't like the lions for what they had done, the other houses had been if anything less nice to him over the years. The opinions of anyone outside his professors and his friends didn't mean a thing to him. He reflected not a little sadly that the number of friends he had took a dive this year, but that was that.

Harry decided to actually attend his classes that day, if only to hang out with Neville before the task. Ron, Hermione, and many of the other Gryffs seemed to think it meant he was coming back to them all because he was worried that this might be it for him or something. Harry came close to leaving Neville just because of how creepy it felt to have all of those people who abjectly hated him less than a month ago try and offer words of support. He would have thought his continued lack of red and gold would give them the right impression, but it appeared the lions were thicker in the head than he remembered.

Finally lunch came along. Harry and Neville took a seat at the Ravenclaw table with Luna. Harry ate quickly, and after about fifteen minutes McGonagall came bustling into the great hall to get both Cedric and him.

McGonagall's shoulders were tensed and every step she took seemed minutely larger than the one before it as she led the two champions outside and towards a large tent at the edge of a large enclosure with what appeared to be stadium seating erected at its edge. Cedric walked calmly into the tent, and before Harry could follow McGonagall grabbed his shoulder.

"Harry, remember, we have fully trained wizards standing by to take control if something bad happens, the main thing is just to do your best and no one in the world will think less of you."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. Despite the fact that he had no intention to actually try and win, even he was feeling the tension of the moment. He stepped into the tent and saw that everyone else was there, along with Bagman.

"Good! We're all here!," Bagman seemed more out of place and ridiculous than usual. Fleur's veela charm was only barely covering the fact that she was nearly shaking in her boots. Harry smiled as the thought occurred to him that she was doing the most graceful shaking in one's boots that he had ever seen. Viktor looked like a poster child for the stoicism of a Northman. Harry was almost willing to bet that the only noises he would make today were grunts. Cedric was an interesting combination of scared and confident.

"In just a moment the audience will finish being seated, and the first task will begin! In this bag here," Bagman removed a purple silk bad from his robes at that, "I have a small model of what you are about to face, each of you will select one just before you head out to face your challenge. From the moment you see your foe you will have ten minutes preparation time, then thirty minutes to get the golden egg. We will be going in order of age, oldest to youngest, so it will be Krum, Delacour, Diggory, and Potter. Any questions?"

No one moved.

"Alright! I'll be back in a moment to start!", with that he stepped out of the tent, and the four champions were alone with their thoughts and the sounds of hundreds of people moving towards the enclosure.

Harry waited in silence for a moment, then just couldn't stand it, "So anyone have any idea what we're facing?," he asked the room with a smile on his face. He may not care about the tournament, but he was sure that he could cut the tension in the room with a knife, then brew something with a piece of it.

Krum grunted and looked self-satisfied. Fleur and Cedric both looked down in apparent embarrassment. Harry had meant the question as a joke, but their reactions spiked a bit of anger into him.

"That wasn't the answer I expected..."

Krum chuckled, and Fleur and Cedric only appeared more embarrassed.

"You do know! All of you do! Was I the only one who didn't bloody cheat?!," Harry said, anger now plain on his face, "Well what the bloody hell is it then? A cockatrice? A pair of bloody griffins? If you all know, and the 14 year old who didn't even want to be here doesn't, the least you could do is tell me!"

Cedric and fleur shared another glance, then just looked back down in embarrassment equal to their previous tension. Krum got out another chuckle, and said, "Ve face dragons, Englishman. Our," he inclined his head towards Fleur, "headmasters told us. Hers vent on date vith half-giant caretaker and saw them. Mine follows. I think Diggory hears from father, he works for ministry, no?"

Cedric nodded, his gaze never leaving his feet. Krum resumed his chuckle, and Harry got if anything even more angry. He never wanted to even be here, and these... he didn't even have an angry enough word. Wankers felt weak but he was going to run with it for now, these bloody wankers were cheating in an international competition!

He sat on a bench in the room and started sinking his anger into his core. By the time he had purged himself of the pure werewolf rage that filled him and had moved on to trying to find the most insulting way to degrade the competition in return, Bagman had entered the tent again and held out the bag to the surly Bulgarian. Krum stuck his hand into the bag and removed a red dragon, grunted, and left the tent.

Twenty or so minutes of oohing and aahing later, it was Fleur's turn. She removed a dragon he recognized, a welsh green, and stepped out to do battle. She lasted longer than Krum had, but the reactions of the crowd had telegraphed no less action. Cedric followed her up a round thirty minutes later. He got a much larger reaction, home field advantage, Harry reflected. His dragon Harry had also recognized, a blue-grey dragon, a Swedish short-snout. It felt like an eternity to Harry, but finally it was his turn.

Bagman didn't even bother with his fancy purple bag. He just handed Harry a small enchanted model of a black dragon. Harry didn't know the name of this one, but it's tail was almost as spiked as its head. It looked to Harry like it had a solid chance of stabbing him by accident, let alone when trying to kill him.

"Just go for the egg, Harry," He said as he led Harry to the enclosure. A massive beast waited for him in the center of the clearing. It must have massed more than the Hogwarts express, Harry thought idly. No wonder McGonagall had been so stressed.

As soon as harry had stepped into the clearing, Bagman left his side for the judge's box. When he made it into the box, he cast a _sonorus_ on himself, and as he did, Dumbledore cast a massively overpowered (therefore huge) modified _tempus_, making a ten minute timer appear in the air over himself.

"Our youngest champion has seen his challenge, all he has to do is get past this most impressive example of dragon kind, a Hungarian Horntail!," the crowd started yelling wildly at this, but inspiration struck Harry, and he hefted his wand and cast a wide-area _silencio_ around him so he could have some peace in which to work.

He looked at the dragon for a moment. It regarded him with eyes that seemed far more intelligent than any beast Harry had ever seen. Maybe it spoke parseltongue, Harry spent an instant thinking, before he summoned some chalk and went to work.

First he transfigured a wide area of ground around him to a perfectly smooth and flat black board. He then used his chalk to start drawing a circle. Power circles that were inscribed on the ground definitely weren't a part of everyday magic. They were used most of the time in high level alchemy and in a number of high-magic rituals. The chalk was used as a symbol of earth, and often served to guide power in these applications that channeled huge amounts of magic, moving the energy without it having to pass through the caster, saving them from burning themselves out.

They had another application though. It wasn't as common, but inscribing a power circle was first used by early sorcerers (not wand-bearing wizards) as a channel for not energy, but focus when in the act of permanent conjuration. The act of making the circle served to bind one's magic securely to their purpose, the more descriptive and elaborate the circle, the more complicated one could make the thing they were working on without worrying about missing making a single artery or misplacing a single gear in complicated conjurations. With the advent of wands, sorcery using power circles had fallen out of favor, and so was dismissed.

The circle Harry made consumed eight of his ten minutes of prep time. It was really three concentric circles, each outlined in dozens of runes. By the time he finished, he drew a pentagram (symbolizing life_ and_ stability, he was beginning to like those things. Vernon would faint if he could see him now, Harry smirked.) over the inside, and then kneeled at the edge, placing his right hand on the edge of the circle and with his left placing the tip of his wand in the same place. He reached deep within himself and channeled pure magical energy into the circle. His closed fist and the tip of his wand both glowed a deep emerald, the color he saw in his core and now associated with transformation magic.

After a moment there was a pop of displaced air, and before him, chewing its cud without a care in the world, was a full grown Holstein cow.

Outside the area of silence Harry had spelled, the crowd shared a huge gasp. It was not common knowledge that power circles could be used in conjuration. As far as the average wizard knew, they were used only in rituals and alchemy. As they watched the fourteen year old make one, whispers of dark magic or terrifying alchemy abounded in the crowd. Many were afraid, Dumbledore himself could be seen shifting uneasily in his seat. Many looked to the accepted resident experts in dark magic, Snape, Karkaroff, and the Durmstrang contingent. All of whom could be seen whispering to one another and looking uncertainly on the boy's work.

When the cow appeared, everyone in the crowd gasped in surprise, and in recognition that they had no idea what Harry's plan was.

* * *

She had no name that the two-legs could produce. In the manner her people could communicate, she was referred to as the smell of freshly spilled blood and the image of scales glinting as they passed, lightning-quick, through the air. She was an elder. She had been dominant and a brood-mother for one hundred years before any other being here in this enclosure had been born.

Her two-legs, the ones who appeased her with gifts of meat and grain that she might not expand her territory, had spoken around her of a great tournament. A tournament that had not been held in nearly two hundred years. She had deigned to let herself be 'captured' by her two-legs that she might see this tournament herself.

She had journeyed for many long and cold nights to this place, if felt only slightly warmer than her home, which at this time it would have been four feet deep in snow. It was... nice... to be here. She worried for her unborn brood though.

She had waited her turn, she was to be last it seemed. Her children, those brood mothers who had submitted to her strength and chosen to follow her to this place, had faced the other champions. One had been distracted by a four-legs conjured by one of their wands, but she had breathed on her two-legs, so it was acceptable. One had been put to sleep by her two-legs, but she too had managed to snore and set hers aflame. Her last child had been blinded by the wand of the last two-legs. She had raged, and accidentally taken the lives of some of her own brood. She had lost the false-egg she was to protect and lost some of her own brood. She would be angry and inconsolable later. The dragon who was the smell of blood and the glint of fast scales heaved a massive internal sigh. It would be much work to calm her before they could return home.

Her very own two-legs had come out. This one was different than the others. She could feel it. First this one looked like a nestling. It was so small. If it were of her brood, she would not have let it leave the nest yet. But it contained such power. She could feel it like she could feel the old-two-legs in the box apart from the rest.

She may have a battle on her hands. They were talking, the two-legs with the terrible annoying voice was shouting about her two-legs. So he _was_ the youngest. Hmmm. This is interesting. She turned her attention completely towards her champion.

He was scratching something on the ground, and it was slowly beginning to resonate with his magic. Her people, the dragon-kin, they were beings of magic. She could feel it around her as easily as she could feel the ground beneath her, and the resonance of the magic in the champion-two-legs in front of her was powerful indeed.

The mass of two-legs were all surprised when the food appeared. She too, had felt surprise. Before her was no wand conjuration. It was nothing like the four-legs that had so distracted her child. Her champion-two-legs had just made a living breathing food. This food would not revert to magic or rock or air after a time. This food would continue to live until it aged or was eaten. Her two legs made four more. As casually as she would call on the earth to make room for her in her cave, as casually as she would breathe on any barrier and destroy it, this two-legs just made five foods.

The nestling, her champion-two-legs, raised its wand and suddenly she could not hear the huge mass of two-legs. She was relieved a little. Quiet was good. This two-legs agreed it seemed. It laid its wand on the ground, and approached her, ushering the five foods it had made before it. Then, wonder of wonders, it spoke to her in the language of the low snakes.

"_Great one, can you understand me?"_

She knew the low language. She had never before deigned to speak it; it was a dirty tongue, below the dignity of any dragon-kin. This two-legs though, it commanded a small measure of respect, and she was curious. There hadn't been a speaker of the low tongue among the two legs that served dragon-kin since before she became the dominant brood-mother.

"_Nestling. I can speak the low language as well as any of my kin, we do not often, it is stained, dirty. I can understand you, nestling."_

"_Great one, I offer you these beasts, in exchange I would ask nothing more than you allow me to lay against you and nap to waste time for a half hour."_

"_You would not try to take the false-egg?"_

"_Truthfully, I have no interest in this contest, Great One. I must be here, so I will, but I have no wish to take of your eggs. I was bound to this tournament against my will."_

"_Make me one more, nestling, I hunger. Then you may lay by my side."_

* * *

Harry couldn't even begin to believe his luck. The dragon if front of him spoke parseltongue! He may be fate's bitch, but sometimes fate took care of her bitch. He couldn't believe it. He walked back to his summoning circle and summoned another cow. For this one, he pictured a hide with a silvery moon against a dark blue and black background (he was sure Luna would like it) on it. The other five had been marked by a lion, a badger, an eagle, a snake, and a brilliant white lightning bolt.

He had specified everything he wanted about the cows he was making, save the appearance, in the circle. That let him guide the appearance of the cows mentally as he conjured them. He was sure this was mastery-level work, these were each permanent conjurations. Real living cows. He had never tried to do it with something this big before, but he was over the moon (heh) with how well everything was going. He had even thought to throw a massive _silencio_ around the enclosure so the crowd couldn't hear him speak to the dragon.

Harry brought the last cow to the dragon, gently smacking its flank to get it to move. He had made the cows with no sense of smell and bad eyesight so they wouldn't be frightened by the dragon.

"_Here is the last cow, Great One, I will cast a small spell to wake me when my time is up _(he had 28 minutes left according to the headmaster's second _tempus_) _please do not be concerned if you hear a small noise."_

"_Whatever you need, nestling. This is a more than fair exchange."_

And so Harry lay down next to the dragon that could crush him without even a thought, and he took a small nap.

* * *

Outside the barrier, the crowd was going wild. Harry Potter had just used dark magic to summon what could only have been six demon cows, only to give them to a dragon, then laid down to sleep next to the hungry beast! No one could process it.

Luna looked at Dumbledore's modified tempus and laughed out loud. Malfoy owed her 500 galleons! Playing 25:1 odds against Harry surviving past the tenth minute of the challenge had been a terrible move on his part. The wrackspurts around him would have tipped her off alone, even without the humdingers encouraging her to put all of her money on her Harry. Wait... Why was it **her** Harry and not just Harry? Her face went from jubilant to confused in an instant. Maybe she needed to talk to the dabberblimps about this. They always gave good advice...

Elsewhere in the crowd, Gred and Forge (they didn't even try to distinguish between themselves any more, they just considered themselves a single unit) were crowing in delight. There their brother was, living the advice they had given him out to its fullest. They knew how much he hated the spotlight. They had tried to tell him though; he needed to give up on this idea of being out of it. He was a magnet to attention. They had seen it almost from the moment they had met the kid. He would draw the gaze of everyone around him for as long as he lived. So they took him aside and told him, if everyone and their blasted mothers were going to be staring anyway, you might as well have a laugh and give them something to stare at.

Neville just looked at his god-brother and had a quiet chuckle. The colored cows had been pretty funny, he had to admit, and now he was just lying there next to a feasting dragon. The dragon even looked like it was eating delicately so as to not move too much and disturb Harry's nap! By Odin, his brother was an interesting guy.

* * *

A small buzzing was going off next to him, and Harry moved slowly back towards consciousness. He left his position leaning against the dragon next to him, and walked back in front of the giant being.

"_Great One, thank you for dealing with me. You could have utterly destroyed me without even a thought while I slept. I do not mean to impugn your honor and suggest that you would, I merely say that you are so much more powerful than I that you could have with no consequences. Thank you."_

"_Nestling, come stand before me. There is something special about you, you interest me. You will speak to my red-furred _(Did she mean Charlie?, Harry thought)_ two-legs and learn of my home. You will come and visit me there in a few years' time. I grant you a boon that you may have an easier path back to me."_

Harry honestly didn't know what to think of what the she-dragon had said. He was overtime in the stupid task now, but he knew better than to argue with a dragon. He didn't believe she would hurt him, but he was actually pretty afraid of what a dragon that outweighed him in the same manner a mountain outweighs a mole-hill would consider a 'boon'. He felt the Lady of the Castle urge him forward, which was enough to move his curiosity toward the she-dragon and take him with it.

Harry moved directly in front of the massive head of the Horn-tail, and when he was about two meters from her snout, she reared up on her hind limbs pointing her snout to the heavens and breathed much deeper than even a being her size would have any right to. In an instant she turned her head back down and her body crashed to the ground bringing her massive head to a foot above him, and breathed flames of pure gold down on the boy.

His magic broke for a moment. All of the spells he had active crumbled. In his lab all of the trinkets he had enchanted broke down, the shower and bathroom he had made disappeared. Half his quills ceased to exist, and the small chunk of obsidian resting on McGonagall's desk which had been the first purposeful permanent conjuration he had accomplished became translucent and then faded from existence. More importantly, the _silencio_ he had put all around the enclosure broke.

In that instant you wouldn't have known though, the entire stand went silent as he stood and was willingly engulfed in flames by a dragon. A single whisper escaped from the contingent of dragon handlers.

"The flames of life..."


	13. Chapter 12: Task One, Part Two

A/N: Apologies, there are formatting errors because it stripped out my page breaks for some reason. Will fix soon.

Chapter 12

Harry watched the dragon, the 15 meter 20 tonne locomotive of a dragon, descend from its hind legs faster than his firebolt could ever hope to match. The momentum and force behind the move shook the ground as the she-dragon caught herself on her forearms and lowered her head, stopping just over Harry. The instant she stopped moving without crushing him, he thought, "Hey, I might survive this."

The dragon matriarch opened her jaws and spewed forth pure golden light and flames. Harry had been staring directly into her jaws, and his heart gave an obscene lurch for the second time in as many moments. "Nope, I'm gonna die."

The fire covered him from head to toe. He had been burnt before. Some bad experiences as a very young child cooking, along with Dudley's discovery of matches and subsequently lighters had taught him a lot more about the sensation of burning than he had any wish to know. He expected the pain to overwhelm him, to feel his skin blister and be seared away, and he was bothered that he didn't even get the chance close his eyes to meet it. A full second of being covered in the holy fire pouring from the dragon above him was more than enough to tell him that this was an experience he had no parallel for.

The light from the fire seemed to go through his skin and directly into his core. He hadn't relinquished his death grip on his center from the very moment he saw the dragon he was to face until now, and as the light claimed him he noticed it pass through his shields like they weren't there and blanket his core in a magnificent golden holocaust of flame.

His eyes finally closed as he turned all of his attention inward. In the past he had noticed expansion in the size of this part of him that touched magic. It was the window or the door or _something_ that magic entered his being through, and in the past when he poured all of his negative emotions into it, the window grew wider. When he had done battle with the foreign magic during the whole goblet of fire incident, he was being literal when he joked to himself that he should thank the Slytherins for delivering him from the force. Their constant jeering and the ridiculous behavior of _professor_ Snape were responsible for almost doubling the size of his connection in the roughly two months he had to deal with them.

This fire though, this divine fire, it burned through him and ripped that connection open a mile wide. Harry felt it as every piece of magic he had activated or made in the world collapsed. He felt it as his center became one massive portal into the primal energy of magic.

Maybe ten seconds had passed in the outside world as Harry had sunk into himself and was overwhelmed by the _boon_ this amazing creature above him had given him. In that time that audience had begun shouting and calling for the dragon caretakers (when they got drunk and thought themselves fancy they referred to each other as _dragonologists_) to stop the beast. Every one of them though, was consumed by the sight before them. Only the oldest among them had ever seen the Flame of Life, as they called it.

It was a gift that could only be given by a very powerful and old dragon and then only by its own free will, usually to those that had rendered a great service to a dragon. It hadn't escaped any of them that Harry had silenced the area around the enclosure before apparently talking to the massive she-dragon. They all knew that this dragon was the dominant matriarch over all of the preserve they had in Romania. They knew that the only reason she had come was because she chose to, though they had no true idea of the real intelligence of their charges, they had each found some strong suspicions.

As the Flame of Life let up, Harry felt his connection to magic close considerably. Without the flame to sustain the growth, his connection shrank from filling the entirety of his center to being only a five or six fold increase over how large it had been ten minutes previously. The effect of the portal to raw magical energy opening in him so wide and for so long was not so quick to disappear, however.

Harry stood almost half a foot taller, and had put on more than a stone's worth of muscle. The magical potential that had coursed through him in the ten seconds he had been covered by the dragon-born fire had reversed the effects of more than a decade of starvation, malnutrition, and abuse. The work he had done at the Dursleys and here at Hogwarts would have made him one of the strongest and most muscled kids in his year, had the food at Hogwarts done anything but keep his body from self-destructing for want of nutrients. The fire had burned the impurities from his body and soul, making it so, though it would take some time before Harry would notice the soul part.

Harry faced the brood mother in front of him, the further gasps and shouts from the crowd now surrounding the pair. For some reason, he could barely make her out despite her being bigger than the proverbial barn. Harry took off his glasses only to find he could see everything with a clarity like he had never before known. He bowed deeply from the waist, she inclined her head generously, and Harry walked from the field, dropping his glasses to the ground behind him. If he knew Madam Pomfrey, and he felt he would have through raw volume of exposure even if they had they never even spoken a word to each other during his time in the hospital wing, she would be dying to perform a few dozen scans on him to be sure he was okay.

Behind him, a score of dragon handlers took the field to gently guide the horntail away. They needed to get her out of sight of the crowd. Wizards may live under a constantly suspended state of disbelief due to the persistent explanation of 'Magic', but the crowd wouldn't likely stay on the sidelines long if anyone began shouting that the dragon had hurt the boy-who-lived somehow.

After Poppy had run a solid half dozen scans on him (he only remembered after number five to resurrect his shield layers, so most of her scans actually returned results) he was let go from the medical tent for his scores. While she sat at a table shaking her head in confusion (Harry Potter, the only man on earth to get hit by dragon fire and be better than he was before, she thought), he was replacing his still smoking and crumbling robe. Ron and Hermione barged in to the medical tent.

"Harry, mate, bloody hell, I hardly recognize you! I wanted to say that I... I reckon that whoever put your name into that cup was trying to do you in!"

Hermione couldn't even say anything. She was white as a sheet, and her only response was to walk to Harry and give him a crushing hug.

Harry awkwardly stood still until she finally separated from him, his lack of response to her and Ron's statement hanging heavily in the air between the formerly inseparable trio. Harry finished throwing on new robes before turning to the other two. He almost made it past the pair before Hermione made a pained noise deep in her throat. Harry turned.

"What? Oh! I'm sorry, did you expect me to see you two come back to me and for me to just blindly forgive you both because you finally saw that I could die here? Ron, since I've known you, you've never once been able to look past my inheritance or my stupid ruddy fame to see that I would move heaven and earth to have a family and a life like you do. You're rude, you eat with less manners than the dragon I just faced, and you betrayed me utterly in Gryffindor tower.

And you, what excuse do you have, Hermione? I've tried to be there for you every day since that damned Halloween with the troll, I spent as much time as I could possibly spare with you in the hospital wing during second year, and you throw me away why? Because I started beating you in class? Bugger off, the pair of you. You deserve each other."

Harry left the tent, disgusted with them and himself. He had years of experience with those two. Ron and his brothers (mostly the brothers, he now suspected) had rescued him from literal starvation before second year. Ron and Hermione both had come with him to get the stone and Ron had come with him to the chamber. He still remembered the hours he had spent at Hermione's side when she was petrified. He paid more attention than he had ever before on his notes at the time, and read them to her unmoving forming in that antiseptic smelling room he hated.

He had so much emotion invested in that stupid, absolutely rubbish pair of people. And then they both get jealous of him, one he was sure for entering the tournament and spending time with other people, and the other for paying attention in school and finally living up to his potential. They were the first real friends he had ever made, Hagrid and Hedwig notwithstanding, and this is how it ends. It hurt.

He moved the curtain obscuring the outside world from the tent, and walked out to the adoring faces of his brothers, the amused face of his god-brother, and the incredibly worried face of the first girl to mean something to him as a girl and not just as a friend. His sadness almost disappeared.

* * *

The fallout from the events of the First Task was interesting, to say the least, Harry thought a few days later as he idly lay in bed beneath the workbench in his lab. He had decided to have himself a bit of a lie-in and categorize the events of the last few days.

* * *

First and foremost, the changes to himself. He still wasn't sure what exactly the fire had been. He was taller, he was stronger, he had eyes like an eagle, and as an accident that had almost incinerated Ollivander's notebook had proven (damn Freyr, always knocking over his potions!), he wasn't affected by flame anymore.

He had tracked down Charlie like the dragon had requested, and even for the somewhat surly man he had been unusually tight lipped about what happened. Charlie led him to a small group of the dragon handlers, and after they had erected a truly impressive number of privacy wards, they answered a few questions.

Their answers had, in a typically wizarding fashion, only led to more questions though.

They told him a little of the dragon they called Sigyn, the Horntail he had faced. She was an ancient dragon, born to the wilds that would later become the Romanian dragon preserve around the time that the Germanic wizard Odoacer deposed Romulus Augustulus, the last emperor of the Western Roman Empire, and the city itself fell.

She became the dominant brood mother of the preserve around two hundred fifty years ago when she killed the previous matriarch in a battle that lasted for near on a week and burned down most of the preserve's buildings (and consequently records). Since then, by all accounts, she had ruled over the preserve and all of the dragons moved there with and iron claw, killing many who stood up to her, but otherwise running a very orderly and peaceful flight of dragons.

They had asked him what she had said to him. Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't like advertising the whole parselmouth thing. He may not really care what other people said, but the whole heir of Slytherin thing still hurt when it happened. They overrode his protests. It seemed that they didn't care about the 'evil' ability to talk to snakes if it let them get a little closer to their charges.

"She called me a nestling, and it kinda felt like she was calling me _her_ nestling. It seemed like she was interested in the tournament. She seemed surprised when I told her I didn't want to be in it. Ummm... She negotiated me up to another cow, and she said that I was speaking the low language of the snakes. She said it was dirty, and beneath a dragon to speak, but she seemed kinda interested in me. At the end there, she demanded that I speak to her," Harry shot an apologetic look at Charlie, "Orange furred two-legs, and that I get permission from you all to visit in a couple years. Before that whole fire-thing she said she was going to give me a boon to help me weather the next few years to come back to her."

Harry didn't know what to make of it. Most of the dragon handlers crowded around each other and began whispering, Charlie walked over to him and said with a smile, "Did she really call me her orange furred two legs?"

"Yeah, mate. It was oddly possessive too. The snake language has a lot of shades of meaning, it's hard to describe, but yeah."

Charlie let out a few deep belly chuckles at that, "Thanks for talking to us. I'm sorry if this is strange, Harry, but we always knew they were smart. A lot of us could see their intelligence, it's in the eyes, you know? And there was no way in the nine hells we could have gotten them to come here if they didn't want to come, things like that."

Harry gave a nod. Beasts (beings? beasts didn't feel right any more) the size of Sigyn wouldn't be moved if they didn't want to. And there was a definite reason that dragon hide was valued as armor. You couldn't pierce some species hides with a killing curse if you hit them in the wrong place, the Ukrainian Ironbelly being only the easiest example. While they had been talking the others seemed to reach some sort of conclusion, they called Charlie over for a moment.

Charlie conferred with them and walked back over to Harry, "Alright mate, here it is. We don't know much more than you do about what happened to you. Truth be told, everyone it has happened to in the past has refused to talk about it, but we know it is usually a reward. If you don't mind, we would love to have you come visit us when you get out of Hogwarts. If she wanted to see you in a few years, we're guessing that's what she meant."

It made sense to Harry. He didn't really feel like telling them what the fire had done either. He wasn't the brightest, but he knew if word got out people from all over would be coming to the preserves and harassing dragons, and it wouldn't end well for anyone. He also knew that until he was an adult and out of school no one would let him go to Romania, especially not after the task.

"Also, unless you have a good reason, we would really appreciate it if you didn't let out that dragons are intelligent. The ministries may fund us, but we think a lot would change if they knew," Harry gave a nod of assent, "Okay then. Thank you for sharing all this with us, and we look forward to your visit. The guys here really want me to urge you to consider being a dragon handler. "

They pulled down their privacy wards, and Charlie took Harry aside one final time before heading back out to his scaled responsibilities, "Hey, I don't mean to pry, but I never heard back from you, did you get my message about the dragons?"

When Harry asked what message, Charlie had a few rather uncharitable things to say about his brother, then, "I gave Ron and Hermione a message to get to you. I was forbidden to contact any champion, but after seeing the pair at the Burrow this summer I figured if I let slip to them what was going to happen, you might have a fighting chance."

Because Harry _really_ needed another reason to be angry at his former friends.

* * *

The second piece of fallout from the task came in the form of a truly ancient looking witch waiting for him with McGonagall before his next extra lesson with her.

Before the tournament they had all decided to keep his lessons somewhat secret. They weren't really hiding anything, after all, what students and professor did in their free time was up to them, but they did go out of their ways to do nothing that would bring attention to their activities. The reason Minerva had found out that Harry could handle extra lessons in the first place had been his efforts to avoid jealousy.

In their efforts towards avoidance, they often met in Minerva's private quarters. This day when Harry knocked on her door and entered after her call to do so, he was confronted by the sight of one of his two favorite teachers having tea with a witch that made the headmaster appear to be a sprightly young man.

"Harry! This is Griselda Marchbanks, she is the governor of the Wizarding Examination Authority, that is the board responsible for making the OWL and NEWT examinations, as well as certifying Masteries and formal apprenticeships."

Harry thought that the woman seemed like a no nonsense type. He moved to sit in a chair opposite the two witches, and firmly shook her hand (he laughed a bit to himself that before the episode with the dragon's fire, for him firmly had a much lower definition).

The aged witch addressed him, "Mr. Potter, I attended the first task of this triwizard tournament. The last one held, as I recall, was something like seventy years before my own birth. I had hoped to see some interesting magic, among the last few generations I have seen some interesting applications of some of the spells of my youth. Your own headmaster, as I recall, during his own NEWT exams did some things with the regular set of transfiguration spells that I have never before seen! That's all beside the point however, your performance during the task I found to be of especial interest. I haven't seen such magnificent conjuration in some time, and your use of a power circle to focus your work into permanence!"

Harry's face colored slightly and he couldn't meet their eyes, "Well, I saw the dragon, and I was just terrified. I mean I'm fourteen. I'm a kid, and that was a dragon, a full grown mother dragon with a clutch of eggs! All I could think to do was appear to not be a threat. I thought if I offered the best food I could, the dragon might just let me be."

Minerva and Madam Marchbanks both nodded.

"Mr. Potter, I couldn't help but notice though, your cows weren't afraid to be in the presence of the dragon, did you get them there through a compulsion?"

Harry still couldn't meet their eyes, but he puffed up a bit at that, "I've had a little experience before with animals around predators (the week he had spent at his 'aunt' Marge's farm would be forever etched into his memory), so in my circle I specified that the cows not have any sense of smell and be a bit deaf so they wouldn't be spooked, and I also made their eyesight very bad. If they were blind they'd likely stampede or something, but if they could make out the ground in front of them they would be calmer."

Madam Marchbanks nearly lost her tea cup from unfeeling hands. Her surprise couldn't be more evident, but since Harry refused to meet any of their eyes, he marched on, "I also have a lot of experience cooking, so I'm pretty familiar with beef. I was mostly done with the circle at about five minutes in, so I decided to get a little fancier and I specified that the bones of the cows be laced with a hint of lemon pepper. I couldn't exactly get feedback from the dragon, but if I know my steak in the slightest, they should have been pretty well seasoned for it."

Harry finally dared a look up at her, only to get a full view of a witch who predated Dumbledore drop a teacup. Her mouth had fallen open, and her wire rimmed half glasses that had been perched on her nose fell from her face, to be caught by the silver chain that secured them around her neck.

She recovered after a moment, Minerva's muttered _repairo!_ and another moment saw her hand filed once again by a cup of tea. Minerva managed to look insufferably pleased with herself through the whole ordeal.

"Mr. Potter, I had come here today to satisfy some personal curiosity about what you had done and to catch up with my dear friend Minnie (Harry looked to Minerva who appeared only a little embarrassed), but instead, I would like to offer you something. If you would be willing to repeat your feat from the task, I will grant you here and today your certification as a Master of Transfiguration."

Harry took his turn as the one to drop his jaw. He had the fortune to not break a cup by virtue of not having one, but with another insufferably pleased look, Minerva place a cup in his hands.

It took most of the day, but Harry agreed to do it, and the group found a place near Hagrid's house where he could conjure them another animal. The half-giant was drafted into joining them so that they could have an official expert presence look at the animal.

It was decided for the test that Harry should attempt a new animal, and from his cabin's confines, Hagrid appeared with a baby niffler. Harry looked the animal over so get himself familiar with it, despite its squirming and constant attempts at Harry's wristwatch.

It was a very cute creature, he decided, and it reminded him of a badger. It had short but thick black fur, and wide spade like hands that seemed ideal for digging. It had an elongated snout and very keen brown eyes that seemed to be bright and alive with what harry could only call mirth. This, Harry thought, was a very happy, very cuddly creature. He thought he might like one as a pet, if only it didn't try constantly to gnaw off his hand so it could get to his shiny watch.

After a time, Harry handed the baby back to Hagrid, who in turn gave it back to an anxiously waiting niffler on the ground next to his cabin. Harry walked to an open area in the half-giant's pumpkin patch, and again transfigured a wide area into a smooth blackboard. He conjured himself another piece of chalk and went to work under the critical eyes of his friend and the two witches.

Harry made a series of five concentric circles for this summoning. He thought he would need the stability of five on this one because he had a lot of changes to make and he couldn't bear to summon a living thing with a defect because he hadn't been cautious. He began covering the inner-most circle with runes. Harry didn't know much of runes still, he hadn't had time to study them, despite their usefulness. The runes he used were very general, mind, body, heart, and bone were most of what he scribbled. In truth he likely could have simply doodled and it would have been enough. Magic was about intent, and these runes just crystallized his intent surrounding a specific aspect of the conjuration. Their form didn't matter, they were just snapshots of what he wanted to do.

Harry decided to strengthen the skin, bones, and muscles of his niffler. He had some basic knowledge of the critters, and knew that they were rather hearty as it was, but Harry's creation would be near indestructible. His changes would make the baby creature weigh almost a stone with its increased muscle and bone density. Harry strengthened its internal organs as well, it was an underground animal after-all, and it wouldn't do to have it succumb to just any old snake bite. His physical changes took the inner three circles.

As he moved out to the fourth circle, he had a few changes he wanted to make to the mind of the niffler. His intent was to have it be as smart as or smarter than Hedwig. He wanted it to be smart enough to be able to enjoy its life and understand it happiness, but without another niffler of equal intelligence he didn't want to burden it with self-awareness. The final change he made was a modification to the desire to find and eat shiny things, he lessened the compulsion from mind-consuming to fun-pastime. Harry thought he might like this one as a pet, if it would have him.

He finished his circle and walked to the outside. The appearance he imagined was an incredibly dark blue, so dark that in most light it would look black. He also gave it a tiny white lightning bolt on its right front paw. He reached into himself for the emerald magic of transformation, it was the magic that encircled his core, and he thought that it was the reason transfiguration came so easily to him. Harry channeled it up from his center to his shoulders, then down through his arms to his hands. When they glowed from the inside with the same emerald hue he saw at his center, he placed them at the edge of the circle (having forgone his wand for everything but the initial transfiguration of the ground) and pushed his will and his power into the designs he had drawn.

The process he was using here was orders of magnitude less rushed than what he had done before the she-dragon. This time he brought his magic slowly through each circle, paying attention as each level of intent flooded his awareness, brought in by the chalk inscribed runes he had drawn. Harry closed his eyes for this final step, but the other three had not. They watched as the glow from his hands raced like wildfire across the chalk lines for the fifth circle, then slowly it made contact with each of the others, the power bleeding in and concentrating as it crawled down through the levels of the concentric circles Harry had drawn.

When Harry's magic reached its most intense concentration at the center of the circle, the observers could feel the air heavy with magic and possibility. Minerva hadn't felt magic this strong since her research work with Albus decades before. Hagrid had never known magic of this strength, the magic of his mother's people, the giants, the jötunn, in all of its waste and brutality wasn't even this strong. Madam Marchbanks lost her glasses once again as she stared at the boy in front of her.

With a much smaller pop than before, in the center of the circle there was a baby niffler. It matched the mental image Harry had constructed of it, from its beautiful black-blue hair to the small white lightning bolt on its paw. It opened its eyes somewhat lazily, and gave an extremely wide yawn as its elongated snout opened to reveal its many wide molars. It stood and shook itself a bit, then identified Harry, and scrambled over in joy and jumped into his arms.

Harry grunted like he'd been hit with a furry bludger, which in many ways he had been, and was knocked back onto his butt as he cradled the cooing animal in his arms. Harry gave it a tickle which is responded to with a surprisingly high toned giggle. Nifflers were sopranos, who knew?

Hagrid managed to separate Harry from his new pet only with great difficulty. It definitely did not want to be moved from the arms of its adopted mother. When the gentle giant declared the young wee beastie more fit than any fiddle had any right to be, Harry described the changes he had made.

Madam Marchbanks conjured a certificate from the air, immediately signing in her capacity as governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. Minerva and Hagrid both countersigned it as expert witnesses, and Harry was handed his first Mastery on the spot. Of course he had to juggle the paper with the squirming bundle of joy in his arms. The niffler who he decided to name Freyr eventually decided he like riding on Harry's head, and flattened out there allowing Harry full use of his arms.

How do I get myself into these things, Harry silently bemoaned, as the laughing witches left him to the tender mercies of a group of confused mother nifflers that had come out to see the baby none of them had given birth to.

* * *

Fallout number three had followed the task directly, but didn't truly hit until a few days later, and it took the form of an impressively unattractive witch named Rita Skeeter.

Evidently Skeeter had been waiting for him during the weighing of the wands, but lost patience when he couldn't be immediately produced. She had run an article about all of the other champions in the Daily Prophet, and Harry had been pleased to see that he was barely a side note with a tiny picture of him and his quote residing after the detailing of the quidditch battles of Krum, somewhere near page 10. It was like she thought he'd be hurt by the lack of attention, Harry laughed.

With his evident summoning of demonic cattle from the outer darkness, Skeeter's interest was piqued though and she made an attempt to drag him off after the scores were given for the task. Harry had never been more thankful for his brothers then after that conversation.

She began after being not so politely rebuffed from grabbing at him, Neville and the Twins knew of her it seemed, "Harry! Dear! Word for the Daily Prophet!?"

Harry didn't like her from the start. Her desperation to get him alone, her rudeness in doing so, and just the general feeling he got from her all screamed at him to leave and leave now. Even Lady Hogwarts sent him a note of warning regarding the platinum blonde witch.

"I'm overjoyed to still be alive, dragons are surprisingly nice if you give them a chance, and I would love to be left alone, thank you."

With his brothers as escorts he made it away safely, but the newspaper had made up for the lack of interview. Skeeter had a soiled but effective quill, and she proceeded to speculate on his surliness, his going dark, his choice of companions, and oddly enough, his new 'hunk-y' (Harry shuddered at the thought of Skeeter checking him out) appearance. He never put stock of any kind in the paper, but Malfoy had thought it funny to quote it at him at every chance. The articles were vague and ignored by all but the most crazy, more annoying than anything else.

Harry began debating the virtues of going dark in truth and whether anyone would really notice if Malfoy and Snape just went missing one day. Her articles were truly inflammatory. Harry was honestly a little nervous about what kind of damage she could manage if she had actual information. It had only been a few days, but already his little Freyr had help him find a number of unpleasant things in the mail sent to both him and Luna.

* * *

The final piece of fallout came from the other three champions. When he yelled at the three of them for having cheated in a competition against a kid three years their junior, they evidently took his anger to heart.

Harry had been cornered with Freyr between classes in the library. Viktor, Cedric and Fleur all took places next to him at a table where he had spread out several reagent reaction tables. He had been trying to get work started on. He was working on balancing the influences of re'em blood, his own blood, the raw transformation magic of metamorphmagus hair, bowtruckle silk, and finally a little blood from Hagrid.

The re'em blood would increase the strength of any magic passed through the focus, but it was incredibly difficult to get a hold of. That one ingredient was what he was burning his entire tournament budget on. His blood would bind the focus to himself, and Hagrid's blood would significantly boost his power using charms based magic. By its very nature, the magic of the jötunn was charms magic. They put massive power behind single intents, smash, burn, grow, things like that, if he could get Hagrid to willingly donate just a little, it would be of enormous help. Metamorphmagi were beings of pure transformation energy. They could only be injured with great difficulty, because even most mortal wounds could be taken care of entirely through transforming themselves. The hair of a witch or wizard with the ability was the most easily changed feature on their bodies, therefore the most packed with their transformation energy. Willingly given, it would increase even his ability with transfiguration. The bowtruckle silk was very magically powerful, it fairly resonated out loud when Harry touched it, and it would give Harry's channeled magic a strong tie into natural magic.

Harry had most of the restricted section's potions references in front of him while he idly tickled Freyr in his lap as the three other champions took chairs at his table. Each of them had their golden eggs with them, Harry was refused one by virtue of not even attempting to get it. He felt it was fair and simply didn't care.

Harry didn't even look up from the parchment he was working on, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Cedric spoke up, "Harry, we... umm... we've been talking a bit, and we realized how unfair it is for you, especially with us having the bit of foreknowledge."

He couldn't know it, but this only increased Harry's ire. In his conversations with Charlie and later Hagrid (he had taken to going to care of magical creatures for advice on his new niffler friend) he found that both of them had tried to warn him, but both had tried to go through Ron with the information because they couldn't give it to him directly. He could have been warned.

Krum took up the thread of the conversation, "Ve vanted to give you hint for next task. You haff no egg, vud only be fair."

Beside him, Fleur was nodding her head emphatically. Harry felt a ghost of the veela influence slide around his shields. He finally looked up at that.

"No."

Harry looked back down his work, he was getting near unity between most of the ingredients, and it was the bowtruckle silk that was getting him. But maybe under the additional influence of those phoenix tears Fawkes had given him...

Fleur was the first to get over the mild shock of being refused, Cedric looked shocked still and Krum had grunted with a look of respect on his face, "What do you mean, no?"

Harry didn't bother to look up again, "You all want to make yourselves feel less guilty for cheating in this ridiculous international competition, so now you're offering to help me cheat? Listen, I may be fourteen, but I have self-respect guys. I'll start whatever the next task is with less info than you all, but that's par for course now isn't it. You want to help me? Do something dumb to keep Skeeter off my back, otherwise, please leave me alone."

Cedric just stood and left. Harry could only guess it was because of shame. The boy was a Hufflepuff after all. Their thing was loyalty, hard work, and fair play, Harry would be willing to bet that good old Diggory was having trouble looking himself in the mirror. Krum sensed that the outing was coming to a close, and gave Harry another grunt of respect and slap on the back. Viktor was an international quidditch hero, it took a lot to impress him and even more to earn his respect, this newly muscled fourteen year old had done both. He left in peace for his boat.

Fleur was less than amused. Here was some little boy showing her up, then trying to take some kind of high ground when she deigned to try to help him? Fleur Delacour was not familiar with being refused, and if the three of them couldn't get this boy to accept their help, she would just have to do it alone now, wouldn't she?

Fleur gave her surroundings a quick look, it seemed Harry had intentionally picked a table that was isolated from the rest, she couldn't know that the boy was kicking himself for not using the one he had warded. She focused back onto the boy-who-lived (despite Voldy being a British problem, he had been known and watched from across the channel, his apparent slayer as well) and ratcheted her aura up a number of levels.

The boy had the audacity to act like he didn't even notice! She removed all the blocks she had put on her aura, with it this high she had changed the sexual orientation of a number of men in the past, she had once snuck herself and a group of her friends into the Élysée Palace on a lark using her aura to charm the guards into giving them all an impromptu tour. She focused all her attention on the boy, who with a quick "Aha!" seized the book he was looking at and began flipping through the pages towards a section with vigor.

Fleur focused on him more, and more, to the exclusion of all else, and after about fifteen minutes he casually said, "You may as well stop, you know. Your sister veela at the world cup had stronger auras than you, and they were probably about a mile away. They didn't affect me either. Now Cedric deserved his shame, and Viktor deserved his indifference, but you? You may have just gotten Skeeter off of me. 'French veela witch tries to charm boy-who-lived!' I can see the headline now. I'm sure the local purebloods would love a quarter veela trying to charm the last scion of a noble and ancient house. Why don't you run along, hmm? Save us both some trouble."

Fleur's face ran through a number of iterations. Anger, embarrassment, shame, anger again, and finally pure concern for her own wellbeing. She fled, and Freyr climbed Harry like a tree, flattening out on his head.

"But you, you cute little devil, you're the one charming me!" Harry said at the single eye he could see of the creature perched on his head. The niffler gave a content high-pitched sigh and snuggled in for the long haul.

* * *

Yes, as Harry lay in his bed enjoying his personal day, the fallout had been interesting. Freyr gave a light snore and cuddled further into his chest. Harry knew it was a foolish thing, but he couldn't help but hope that things might slow down a little.


	14. Chapter 13:Magic and a Pinch of Betrayal

Chapter 13

Harry woke with a strangled cry the next morning, Tuesday the 29th. Hedwig had been only slightly jealous of Freyr, she knew that her master needed someone to watch him and make sure he didn't get into too much trouble during the day. She knew that owls on their master's shoulders, even with a bond as strong as what she shared with her nestling, weren't allowed in the general hallways. So she had reached a slightly jealous understanding with the _creature_ (she fluffed her feathers in annoyance) that her master had made. None of this stopped her need to make her master feel her displeasure or her need to deliver mail, however.

She took that morning's mail opportunity (why did her master spend so much time corresponding with that dog?) to swoop in and perch herself just above Harry's head. With a wink to the no longer gently snoring niffler on his chest, she began screeching and batting his head with her wings in false anger. She needed to keep up appearances, and having her master think she was okay being merely one of two familiars just wouldn't do.

"Bloody what the - _THUNK! _- ow-ow-ow-ow-ow, O Thor, deliver me from my suffering," said Harry as he woke to the day. Maybe having a bed underneath his workbench wasn't as good an idea as he thought. He felt his head, there wasn't any blood, just a bump the size of a snitch slowly rising.

Harry got up and got out of bed, only to see his owl and niffler both looking like they would be rolling on the floor laughing if they were human. He threw a massive internal sigh. At least the pair was getting along.

"Really, girl? I know you're still a bit miffed that you weren't there when I made Freyr, but do you have to keep doing stuff like this? I already told you I'm sorry! I made you that nice collar that cuts down on wind resistance, I made you a perch by hand with no transfiguration, what else do I need to do to show you I'm sorry and I love you?"

Hedwig looked down in shame, and Freyr put his massive digging paws over his eyes in what Harry had realized was his own expression of being sorry. Harry couldn't let his second ever friend feel bad like that, or his new friend for that matter. He really wished that Hogwarts regulations let him keep Hedwig around during the day. Only McGonagall's express written permission had let him take Freyr everywhere with him, well, that and the ladies just couldn't seem to keep their hands off of him, to Harry's extreme annoyance.

"Okay, look guys, I'm sorry about this. Freyr you were just helping Hedwig, and Hedwig, you're just a little jealous that I have a new friend. It's okay, both of you. You both know I care about you, even if you weigh as much as a small boulder, and you wake me up with a face full of angry feathers."

This seemed to mollify everyone, so Harry sat down. Freyr took his lap and turned about, exposing his belly for scratching, and Hedwig with a single powerful flap took to his shoulder and presented a leg.

She had a message back from Sirius. Harry had sent off an owl as soon as he could. He just knew the paper would be filed with images of him engulfed in fire and he didn't want Sirius to hijack an airplane or something equally reckless and try to get to his god-son's side. He told Sirius his initial plan to avoid the point of the task entirely, and how badly that had worked out.

Sirius's reply was a little overwhelming. It seemed he had caught a newspaper despite Harry's admonition to not believe a thing he saw, and if the letter was to be believed, he had used some family money and bought a schooner to get him to Scotland. His letter had a few of the charms he had used to increase the power and enchant the hull so it would move faster. Harry _almost_ lost himself in ideas of what he could do with a charm to make something frictionless in water before he refocused and realized the arrival of his infamous and outlawed godfather was imminent.

Harry penned him a note back, asking him to be careful and trust only himself with his safety. Aside from his headmaster's behavior of late, Harry had concerns about why the head of the Wizengamot and Britain's representative to the ICW couldn't get his godfather a simple trial.

"Hedwig, my idiot dogfather has ignored my advice again and is coming here, could you do me a huge favor and wake him up with this," he said, brandishing his letter, "just like you did me?"

She puffed out her chest, and preened near the golden Potter family crest of her collar.

"I knew I could count on you girl. There's an extra owl treat in it for you if you can manage to get him to hit his head like you did me."

She gave a short bark, her way to laugh he figured, and allowed him to tie the note to her leg before taking flight through the open window. One nice thing about not sharing a dorm room with those blockheads up in Gryffindor tower (excluding his family up there, the Twins and Neville) was he could leave his window open all the times and let Hedwig in whenever. No complaints.

Harry showered, dressed, and started his day.

He was early for breakfast, the food wasn't out on the tables yet, but one of the elves (Sooty, first daughter of the couple that managed the greenhouses) from downstairs popped up and asked after his needs. Harry soon had a nice cup of tea in front of him and simply bided his time until his friends arrived.

Freyr parked himself on the bench next to Harry, and after a moment Sooty brought him a small bowl of grubs. Harry reproached his new familiar as he went to dig in, "Hey stinker, you know Luna doesn't like it when you eat without her checking your bowl for aquavirius maggots."

Freyr gave him a snort in response, crunching a small beetle between his wide molars, Harry turned back to his tea, "Your funeral, little buddy. You know how she can get, and I may not know what a wrackspurt is, but if she says it'd be bad for you I believe her."

The niffler wisely chose to leave off his munching, and the pair patiently waited for the half hour or so it took the majority of the students to filter down to the Great Hall. Today was a care of magical creatures day, so Harry planned on following Neville around to the class, then begging off to the library for more research. He knew he was coming close to solving his problem with the reagent compatibility in his tanning potions, but after the task he realized that he had missed spending time with his giant of a first friend.

Neville arrived first, and took the seat across from Harry. They were staples of the Ravenclaw table at this point, so no one batted an eye. Shortly after he took his seated a bedraggled and grumpy Luna took a seat on the other side of Freyr, the young niffler quickly moving to her lap. They had breakfast (Luna's taking the form of alternating layers of waffle, beans, bacon, and porridge) and headed on their ways.

Before Harry and Luna parted, he turned to her and gave her a lingering hug. Their relationship had changed tone in the past week. They both felt slightly awkward now for some reason that they had a hard time describing to themselves and couldn't quite bring themselves to talk about with each other. For Harry, it had been in large part how worried she had been for him after the first task. Having his old friends barge into the medical tent and try to apologize, only to come outside and see her looking like his health was the only concern in the world had added some depth to the feelings that he already couldn't understand. The Lady Hogwarts was whispering comfort to both of them about this change, Harry just hoped whatever it was would resolve itself.

* * *

After an enjoyable morning watching Slytherins try to walk skrewts, Harry retired to the library and his calculations. The goblins had delivered his reagents, and they had seen fit to include two samples of each object he had asked after as an apology for their tardiness. Harry was actually a little worried he had brought them some kind of shame for asking after things from the wife of the Chief and not saying explicitly that there was no rush. He even sent a letter to that effect to Gemshaper, but he received a polite brush-off in response. His family had always dealt respectfully with the goblins, her response said, and this was the quality of service they received in response to their respect and trust.

That brought Harry to his next concern of note; namely paying them for their work. Their estimates had been at roughly half the value of his trust vault. For the ability to actually focus his magic, he would have paid much more, but for their extra service he wasn't sure anymore if he could pay. The day before, he sent off a school owl with a missive detailing his concerns, and his determination to add a twenty percent bonus to whatever they charged. He didn't know a lot about tipping or about finances, but his own sense of honor demanded that he meet their generosity with his own, even at the cost of bankrupting himself.

He knew that kind of attitude was how he got drafted into fighting basilisks, but the letters he had sent back and forth between both Gemshaper and Chief Ragnok had become increasingly personal. He felt like he understood the pair. Harry felt a little foolish for feeling this having never met them, but he liked them. They deserved real compensation for their efforts on his behalf.

When he got to his warded table in the library and pulled out his ingredient reaction charts and potions references, he called out to Nothe for any mail. The quiet (Harry would have called him surly, if that word could actually be applied to any of the normally excitable elven race) elf gave him a single heavy envelope marked with the Gringotts crest, then popped away.

The weight of the envelope gave him some pause, but he opened it without much trepidation and began reading the small but tidy scrawl he had come to associate with Gemshaper.

"WHAT!"

Harry's shout filled the quiet library (if his table hadn't been warded against being found, he would have been eviscerated before being thrown out by Madam Pince) and spilled out into the hallway beyond, echoing slightly among the staircases as they moved. Freyr, laying with his wide body flat on Harry's head, gave an indignant squawk at the sudden noise which woke him from his pleasant post-breakfast nap. At his table the boy was reading furiously, his notes forgotten as he moved from the pages of the heavy letter to the ledger that had fallen from the space expanded envelope.

He was a millionaire. Maybe a billionaire. Harry would have to spend some time adding the values from the prop... propert_ies_ he owned to find out.

"What the bloody hell..."

Gemshaper, it seemed, didn't understand why he wasn't sure if he could pay, and had looked into his accounts briefly to see why. Her news stung, for a number of reasons. It seemed that despite all his fantasies of being rescued by long lost family members during his 'childhood', Gringotts' magically updating records recorded him as the very last living Potter. Every other had died either during or shortly before the last war. He knew it intellectually, but to have it confirmed still hurt a bit. The real pain came from what Gemshaper said that meant. He was now Lord Harry James Potter, head of the Noble and Ancient house of Potter. His family had been granted an Earldom in the lands of Scotland by the Pictish king Bruide Mac Bili for their efforts saving, and then healing his army during the Battle of Dun Nechtain which had cemented Pictish rule over what would much later become Scotland. Harry, fourteen year old orphan, was heir to that Earldom and heir to the family line that had held it for more than a thousand years.

Harry was floored. How could no one have told him any of this? How could he be left so ignorant of his heritage?

After letting his mind race to and fro over this incredible revelation, he turned back to the letter. Part of the reason, according to Gemshaper, was that his Earldom didn't exist anymore. Cultural changes in the few hundred years after his family's ascension to nobility, followed by the ending of the line of Scottish kings and eventual integration into England saw his family's lands be dissolved and absorbed into the common land of the kingdoms. Harry wasn't an earl in the magical or mundane worlds. His family line, by magical tradition, would forever still be noble and ancient for their accomplishments though. He had a seat on the Wizengamot, and a number of votes it seemed, but he wasn't by any means true nobility. Harry felt he could understand that.

The goblin's final note though, was of particular interest. It seemed that Harry should have been confirmed as head of his house and given all rights and responsibilities thereof the day he was informed of the existence of magic, on his eleventh birthday. His listed magical guardian was none other than Albus Dumbledore, and the same had closed and sealed his parent's will, the public reading of which should also have ensured Harry's becoming head of the Potter line.

It looked like Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.

As a postscript on the letter, Gemshaper apologized for having to be the one to tell him about this, and implored him to come visit Gringotts when he next had the chance. She wanted to speak to him face to face, it seemed. Under her words was a curious seal which her writing equally implored him to place a single drop of his blood on. He did so, and the paper crumpled and burned slowly as a small plain wooden box emerged from the seal. Harry felt a compulsion sweep across his shields, it came from within the box and wanted him to put something on, he couldn't identify what. Slowly he opened it, only to reveal a solid platinum ring with the stamp of the Potter Crest on its face. The compulsion magic got stronger, and Harry took a second to identify it. It came from the ring, but the magic itself felt like his magic did. It was familiar and it resonated in him. He decided to throw caution to the wind, and just put the ring on.

Instantly he felt the ward schemes of a dozen buildings key into him. He suddenly KNEW the locations of Potter properties from a manor house on a beach in the British Virgin Islands to the castle his family had owned and maintained for generations, in what felt to him like

Scotland. He also felt something shockingly familiar to the connection he had to the elves. It was the same kind of buzzing in the back of his head, but significantly stronger. The more he thought about it the more the connection reminded him of the manic energy of... Dobby. That cheeky little guy bound himself to house Potter when Harry tricked Malfoy into freeing him! No wonder he had started showing up when Harry had found out about the elves at Hogwarts and started asking for their help.

Outside his own deep ruby shields another formed, this one looked less like the translucent one he created and more like a solid metal construction. This shield looked like it might even keep him safe from some direct attacks on his person. Putting on the ring signaled his taking the position of head of house. He was now the last Potter, sole holder of all that entailed.

This was a lot for him to take in. Freyr seemed to sense his whirlwind of emotions, and had climbed down to his lap during his reading. He nibbled on one of Harry's hands for attention, and Harry picked the niffler (now the rough size and weight of a pair of cinder blocks) up, hugging him to his chest.

He had money, the ledger said he had houses. He had an incredible and rich history, going back to the founding of the land he was in. What was he supposed to feel about all of it? He was fourteen, barely a teenager, and here he was, last of an ancient and noble line, engaged in a death-struggle against three others for the amusement of a bunch of old wizards like his Loki-blessed headmaster.

Harry packed up his books and his things. Today he suddenly had a lot of business to do before he went to lunch and later his lessons with Minerva and Fillius. He also mentally doubled the fee he was going to pay to Gringotts. Not only could he afford to multiply their fee a thousand fold, but it was a beyond a damned shame that he needed someone from outside his species to tell him about his own heritage.

* * *

Several hours work saw him a little better emotionally. He couldn't leave the castle grounds until the winter hols started, so he made a number of appointments for that time in both Gringotts and the Ministry. He was only fourteen, but he had an awful lot of power as the last of his line. He had assumed the role of head of his house, which granted him immediate emancipation, but Harry thought about the extent to which he had been kept uninformed. The headmaster had taken all correspondence relating to the Potter properties and had it routed from Gringotts to himself, and had appointed his own person to the Potter seat in the wizengamot. It was no wonder that the man held him at arm's length, any closer and Harry may have caught wind of the extent to which he ran his life.

If Harry wanted to be completely free, he needed to play his cards close to his chest for a while. This was exactly the same as this summer. He had to lie and threaten to get free of the beatings and starvation, he would lie and threaten now to get out from under the bastard's thumb. He needed to be untouchable legally, because while the old man had shown no inclination to help Sirius with his positions, Harry felt certain that his power wouldn't be held back trying to get him under control. Harry didn't get the Daily Prophet, he had no idea what was going on in the wider wizarding world. He certainly had no idea what the name Potter meant outside the walls of the school.

Harry's time in the wizard world hadn't taught him a lot about the world, but it had slowly and violently taught him the age old lesson of not playing around with things he didn't understand. Harry felt uniquely qualified to state that the unknown danger was the one that got you. He had a not-quite-dead dark lord, an acromantula colony, and a sixty foot basilisk body to prove his claims. So with all of the information he had, he decided to, for the moment, do nothing. He needed goblin legal teams, and if he could find it, protection from within the ministry.

The information he had gotten just since this morning had turned his world over. Like all of the other things thrown on him though, he had no choice but to deal with it. Harry just added another line to his mental to do list.

* * *

With no other world shaking events happening, Harry's days evened out. He spent his time during the lead up to the Christmas hols figuring out the various parts of the process he would need for his bracer, and learning from McGonagall and Flitwick. He relegated all of the work securing his future to the hols, there wasn't a thing he could do for now.

For Fillius, it was lessons as usual (though the list of things Harry had left to do was shrinking quickly), but Minerva didn't have anything left to teach him in terms of transfiguration. He had mastered the spells and had the intent necessary to complete nearly anything she had ever heard of in regards to that branch of magic.

What she had taken to teaching him were various tricky applications of his knowledge. He may be a prodigy, but Minerva had a lifetime of shortcuts and personal ideas to share with her now favorite student. The fact that she was learning nearly as much as he was through all of the time he spent breaking accepted rules of transfiguration was just icing on the cake.

It seemed that Harry was limited only by what he understood, so if he didn't know what he was attempting was 'impossible' he, more often than not, could do it. Minerva laughed to herself, half the lessons were her setting him up with an 'impossible' problem to see the result. She had been going through the laws of transfiguration as she knew them, coming up with assignments and tests as she went along for each. She didn't dare go through them as they were listed in any reference, Harry was too bright to not catch on to that, and she didn't want her fun ruined! She had been running him through human transfiguration and the similarities to the animagus process in the last few days to see if he would just grab onto animal transformations and become whatever he wanted. It was supposed to be impossible, everyone was supposed to only have one animal inside of them, but if anyone could just become any animal they pleased, it would be Harry!

She also told Harry during their lessons about the Yule ball coming up, and of his need for a date. She also consented to use some of their lesson time to show him how to dance. That was all she allowed herself to do, however. She had a bet running with her favorite half-goblin on who would be the one to secure the position of young Harry's date. Fillius had his ear to the rumor mill, and he believed that the seeker from his quidditch team, one Cho Chang, would be the lucky lady. Minerva had to do her best not to laugh in his face when he had made his bet on that mark.

She may be a tad obsessed with her lions, but that didn't mean she was blind to the other houses. The Badgers were as clean of internal strife as any group she had ever seen, their culture in house was incredibly open, and Pomona's personality only helped with that. The snakes were an unruly bunch. Their house was rife with anger and tension, but Snape (even she didn't bother append his title to his name) refused anyone else's help or opinions in the matter. More often than not with Albus's blessing.

The ravens were more interesting. Their house politics were based on knowledge, or more often, the perception of knowledge. Fillius may regard every one of the students as his children, but while he was an excellent teacher, he was something of an inattentive father. She had seen after a few short months how Lovegood had been treated when she arrived. The stolen items, and the bullying. Minerva knew Xenophilius from his time with the aurors during the last war, and without her mother to moderate him, Minerva had the feeling that the poor man had, in raising his daughter, done her a disservice. It had all changed this year when Harry had come into her life. Many people were wary of him, and no one messed with his friends.

Minerva put all of her money on those two finding their feelings for one another, and she wished them well in it. They would be good for each other, she thought.

* * *

As Sirius came closer and closer to the school, the time it took Hedwig to get a letter sent between him and his godson got much lower. She was out winging her way from one to the other sometimes several times a day as the guys became more acquainted and discussed plans.

Padfoot had grabbed the last few week's worth of Prophets, and sent Harry a number of swear words the boy had never seen before in relation to the Skeeter woman, her parentage, and her prospects for a date. Harry had been impressed by both the sentiment and the breadth of swears he learned from the letters. In the old dog's estimation, by not saying a word to her one way or the other, Harry had handled it right.

Harry felt fortunate to have Sirius' advice at this time too, because ever since Minerva had told him about the Yule Ball, he knew exactly who he wanted to ask but had no idea how. Ever since they had met, Padfoot had made more jokes about his prowess with the ladies than anything else. This was incredibly important to Harry, and he knew he needed to ask his intended sooner rather than later, third years weren't welcome to the ball after all.

The old dog himself was in an amazingly beautiful bed and breakfast in Brora, about twenty kilometers south-southeast of Hogwarts. Lilly had demanded that the marauders all be familiar with the mundane world, and since he was on the run he blessed her name every day for it. Hiding outside the wizarding world was what had saved him.

He had never been happier to be able to give advice to his god-son. Interacting with women was one area where he felt he had genuine talent and skill, and while it would never get him a profitable job (he had to be restrained and later stunned the day Lilly explained to them that male prostitutes were a real thing in some places, and they were called gigolos), he was still proud to be able to share his joy. He was even going to forsake the pranking opportunities that giving Harry relationship advice offered, which he felt was rather big of him.

Sirius thought he had a good feel for Luna from all of his god-son's letters. He was sure it was Luna because of the ease of his mentioning her in the first few months of the year, and how her name had absolutely disappeared in the last week or so. Sirius knew Xenophilius and his wife to be, Io, during their time at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure if any of his experience with them would be useful. The couple he remembered were youthful, vibrant, and stable. From what he had read in the Quibbler and in the Prophets he had stolen since his escape that had all changed when Io died.

He knew how to approach Luna if you didn't care about her and were just looking for a roll in the hay, but if he had the slightest idea of the kind of person his beloved godson was, that wasn't the plan. To his shame he had done a lot of loving and leaving when he was young, and it meant that while he languished in prison, the only people who would have missed him were dead or marginalized. He had no one to miss him or care for him except his brothers and Prongs had died, Wormtail had betrayed him, and Moony thought it was Padfoot's own fault.

Sirius was coming to the realization that he needed to be present with a much stronger presence for the people he had left, namely Moony and Harry, but he also needed to find someone to help him. He knew his time in prison hadn't left him well in the head. He was staving off the worst of it by focusing on his god-son, which brought him full circle to the advice he needed to impart.

He started on a letter. Harry had the worst part done for him, finding something to do was the hardest part of asking a dame out, in his experience. With the ball all set, Harry just needed a gift to give as he asked her out. From there it was easy. Taking a lady on a date was simple, keep it light, remember to have fun, and make it about her. Sirius didn't know a guy who wouldn't love to just spend time on a couch in their pyjamas with a girl, more often than not the date was about going out for _her_. Sirius took most of the afternoon to get all his wisdom down on paper. He was going to meet Harry's wonderful bird (the one that could fly, anyway) out at the edge of the village later that day.

* * *

While his elders were planning his future love life, his own work pending advice from his dogfather, Harry had gone on working on his bracer.

His plan was to embed a magically reactive sample of either metal, wood, fire, water, or earth at the relevant point in the pentagram. He'd seal the leather up over the sample and draw the pentagram between the samples using either thestral hair, or follicles from the phoenix and abraxan feathers he had. His study of arithmetic figures had found (even with input from the restricted section) that his plan of three overlaid pentagrams was his best bet. The power of five would bring significant stability to the channeling of power, and three overlaid would increase its ease in channeling. A stable flow of power, and a wide conduit to do it, basically as good as he could hope to get it.

The crate with his samples had arrived the day before his unsettling revelations from the goblins. Harry immediately tanned one sample of the Tebo hide with the method prescribed by Ollivander's notebook. He had the potions done, keyed to his own blood, and waiting, so it was the work of a mere hour to have the leather completely prepared. Harry re-measured his left arm, and in a trice had the bracer completely formed. It was simple, the leather being a rich brown and covering from his wrist to three centimeters from his elbow. The goblins had done him the favor of making the magically reactive material samples small in size already, so the process of embedding them was also relatively easy.

For the element of fire, the goblins had found Harry a flawless ruby, a small amount of ashes from the first burning day of a phoenix, and scales shed by a new born ashwinder. The element of metal was represented by the living gold of a graphorn's horn, the living silver of the eggshell of an occamy, and a tiny ingot of goblin mithril. Earth was tied into his focus by a flawless emerald, a small sample of skin from a moke, and a tiny, obscenely expensive sample of living clay taken from the sea-floor ruins of Atlantis. Harry tied water into his focus by having a flawless sapphire, a chunk of bone from a grindylow, and a scale from a mer-chieftain, willingly donated to him. Wood was represented by sample of wood willingly given from a whomping willow, a chunk off of a snargaluff, and a small chunk of petrified wood taken from near the blast site of the Tunguska event (no wizard to this day had ever again attempted to summon _anything_ in from the outer dark, let alone the Lurker at the Threshold).

Harry had three samples of each element, a different sample for each point of the three pentagrams he would make. And he had three different representatives of air.

It took Harry the entire day, even using magic for the entire construction process, but at the end, he had a focus. From the top, it looked like any other piece of leather, everything that made it special was embedded below view. Towards his wrist, Harry made a circular divot and inscribed a small pentagram. Harry made the incantation to the normal space expansion in Greek while pushing his magic into the carving, and bob's your uncle, he had a hole in his bracer space expanded to hold his wand.

It wasn't perfect, really it was only suitable for defensive magic, but it was an amazing test run for his finished project. Truth be told, he may keep it even after he finished his final project. It couldn't hurt to have an extra and strengthened shield on his off hand.

The first _Protego_ he channeled through it was a hundred-twenty degree arc shield, looking like glowing golden glass five inches thick. In his admittedly limited experience, it was the strongest charm he had ever cast in his life, and ever seen cast period. He gave a run at the _Fortis_ charm he had read about in an old auror handbook he found stuffed between the pages of a potions manual in the restricted section. It came out of his hand as a massive silver shield, a meter and a half across and two high, covering a hundred twenty degree arc in front of him roughly a meter out. He had never cast so much power in such a focused way. By the time he had a significant enough tie into magic, his wand was near useless to him. This, he thought with relish, was power.


	15. Chapter 14: A Ball, During Yule

A/N: Hey, I'm an idiot. I just realized that none of my chapters have any of the section breaks I put into them, and after an hour putting them into every chapter, I found out that the formatting just doesn't accept them. Any advice on how to actually make a section break?

Chapter 14

The number of days until what Harry figured would be the least life threatening task of the tournament, the ball, was quickly approaching single digits. Harry was very worried that Sirius' advice didn't arrive soon enough.

The letter implied he'd be asking a certain Miss Lovegood, and while he felt indignant, everything his dogfather had said gave him a step one to go from if nothing else. That step one was to find a gift to give as he asked, and Harry knew immediately what to get. It was, in fact, the source of his worry about time. Harry had sent yet another letter to the goblins, and with the authorization of something like the annual publishing budget of the Quibbler, paid four of the finest teams of trackers that gold could buy to find him a crumple-horned snorkack. He thought it would be an excellent opener, and he was honestly also curious to see proof of his friend's family theories.

As the time ticked down and Harry's concern ratcheted up, the school at large was imitating his personal life. Couples were formed and broken all across the castle, not the least between the local and foreign student bodies. Beauxbatons' representatives were almost entirely female. Harry had in fact only seen one guy among them, and if the reactions of the ladies were any tell, he seemed to be a French version of Filch. In a similar manner, Harry had a hard time telling how many women were among the ranks of the Durmstrang students. They all wore a truly impressive amount of furs at nearly all times. Harry had noticed a handful of ladies, but they were all the size of Crabbe and Goyle in their furs, and about as shapely with all of their layers. He didn't have anything against that, but it made telling gender from a distance more guess work than anything else.

Nev, Luna, and he had taken to watching as the groups all formed couples and in a few remarkable cases trios. It was like a microcosm for the universe, watching these people circle around each other, and connect, and break up. It felt like another form of magic, they wondered together if there wasn't some kind of knowledge about magical theory to be gained from a prolonged study of this kind of thing.

Nev had asked Hannah a full day before the student body in general was informed (Harry being in good with the professors really was paying off for his friends). He was also enjoying watching Harry and Luna form another one of the awkwardly circling couples. He had watched the two grow closer and closer to each other over the year so far. He had seen this coming since the train and what had to have been the first time in his life Harry had ever initiated a hug with another person.

He knew a small part of what the two of them had faced, his experiences with his own parents and with his family when they believed he was a squib were far from ideal. He was the last scion of a pureblood house though, so he knew his own life couldn't compare. Even if all of his family failed him, he had never know the hardship of being truly alone or of physical need.

He could see the occasional thousand yard stare they both threw, it was harder to identify on Luna's normally distant countenance, but it was still there. He remembered first year still. He remembered the first potions classes, and how Harry would do his level best to suppress it but would still flinch whenever Snape stalked by like he thought he was going to be hit. Neville remembered the time in charms when Harry finished the practical first, and how when Flitwick had gone to clap the kid on the back he poorly concealed a dodge into grabbing a quill from his bag, despite the one on his desk. Neville had never once mentioned it to another soul. He didn't know if he was right, but if he was he refused to say anything that could tip it off to anyone.

Hermione badgering him for his experiences at the Dursley's and Harry refusing point blank to even favor her with a response had not gone unnoticed by the Gryffindors over the years. Most had assumed the stories everyone had heard about the boy-who-lived were true, that he lived in a mansion and was waited on hand and foot. They thought he was embarrassed. The train had changed absolutely everything he knew about Harry.

For all it amused him that the two circled each other like two inexpert swordsmen probing for weaknesses, he genuinely wished they would find each other and in doing so happiness. He saw Harry become more and more powerful this semester. More than that, he saw Harry finally believe in himself like everyone else seemed to. Harry was coming back from his extra lessons with the professors with more ability and confidence than he had ever had before. It was a change like the one on the train. This is a new Harry Potter, Neville wished him nothing but the best.

* * *

The ball was on the evening of December 24th, and Harry was as relieved as a guy could be that one of his hunter teams met success, and shortly thereafter him at the edge of the Hogwarts wards with Gringotts representative on the 16th to give him a small and gently snoring wooden crate. He authorized another twenty percent above what was promised with the goblin, and thanked the team profusely, making sure to grab a copy of their notes surrounding the finding. He knew that Luna would love the notes almost more than the rest of the surprise.

The snorkack was a very small critter, the one captured for him was a male and measured 10 by 7 by 7 cm, roughly. It was very furry, the fur itself was thick, smooth, and was an incredible light purple. On its forehead was easily its most recognizable feature, a horn that was hard to describe. All told it was only 3 cm long, but the only way to really approximate it would be as though a horn roughly twice that length was made of wax, and melted onto itself. It was pointed, but warped and folded onto itself as it became wider towards its base. The horn was a vivid purple, sticking out for more than its shape among the hair of the creature.

It had no feet, in fact in that regard it was remarkably like a snail. It moved by a curious mix of caterpillar like motion and simple throwing its body in a direction at roughly the same pace a sloth would normally take. Its bottom was free of fur, but was instead comprised of thick and seemingly pebbled skin. It had small black eyes, and a mouth filled with tiny block like teeth. If Harry was forced to use a single word, the snorkack was adorable.

Harry kept it to himself for the rest of the day, not the least because it got along _really_ well with Freyr. The team had told him it wasn't dangerous. It didn't seem to bite, it had no venom, or spikes, or really anything threatening. It was just adorable, but Harry would be damned before inattention around a new magical species allowed his friend and prospective date to come to harm. The team said that the reason Luna and Xeno had trouble finding it was likely because the entire species exuded some kind of natural notice-me-not field. Baldur, as Harry had named the snorkack, had a collar around his neck (does a creature that has no limbs and consists solely of a single blob really have a neck?) that countered the field. Evidently the only reason they found it was that they had been walking around a fairy mound in Norway with a version of mage sight on, and one of the team had seen some suspicious movement from the corner of her eye.

One risky supersensory charm mixed with the mage sight later, and Bob's your uncle. They had uncovered a whole colony of the adorable little things, and picked the most inquisitive one that seemed to want to leave with them as the sample he requested.

Harry added a notice-me-not on top of the collar, keyed to only himself, then went down to meet her at breakfast on the morning of the 17th. If the back issues of the Quibbler he had ordered had been right, the way she and her father had been trying to lure them out had been with bowls of finely chopped onions. Harry had woken his two furry companions up early, at his normal hour, and gone down to the great hall.

When he took a seat, he called out to Dobby. Harry had made peace with the manic elf over the unwitting bonding to his house, and Dobby had taken over meeting all his needs at Hogwarts with the Lady's consent, of course. Dobby popped down to the kitchen, and then quick as a flash, popped back up with Harry's customary early morning tea and a bowl of the Quibbler's best guess at a snorkack diet. As he set Baldur down on the table next to the bowl, it seemed like Xeno and his daughter had been on to something, as the little guy made his awkward way over to the bowl and began a slow feast.

Harry gave a cheery greeting to Luna when she came down to breakfast, wearing her customary 'dead to the world' look. He happily handed her first through third coffees, and sat with obvious enjoyment as he waited for her brain to kick in. Luna had made it halfway through her bacon, apple, and maple flavored porridge before it did so.

She looked at the table in front of and between herself and Harry. You could see the gears turning and the little men and women in her head shouting at each other and reaching agreements and conclusions as she squinted at the wide bowl that filled most of the space between them. It was filled with finely chopped onions, sweet white, red, and scallion, which were slowly but surely disappearing to some invisible thing.

Her eyes went wide, then moved to Harry's smiling face. This was something not even the humdingers had whispered to her. Harry broke out into light laughter as he passed his wand over the bowl, peeling back his notice-me-not for her only, and revealing to her the sweetest sight she had ever beheld.

She and her father had spent years looking for the snorkack. It was their white whale, and while they weren't planning to go Ahab on the adorable ball of fur in front of her, it did represent vindication of years of chasing and reporting. That wasn't quite what made it sweet to her though, on its vivid orange collar was a bow, and a note. Will I go to the Yule Ball with you, indeed, Luna thought.

"I call him Baldur," Harry said with a smile as he took in her expression at seeing the purple fuzzball, "I paid a group of professional curse breakers and game trackers to find it. They went to the top four most likely places that the Quibbler mentioned, and they found this guy near a fairy mound in Norway. It seems they all have a naturally occurring notice-me-nots on them, which the team I hired speculates is why you and your dad never found them. Also, I have here," Harry removed a small bound volume from his robes, "A full accounting of their notes and all of the steps they took to find one of the many, according to them, small colonies of Crumple-horned Snorkacks."

He passed her the notes, and poked the little purple fellow, indicating Luna when he caught it's at attention. Baldur caught his meaning after a moment, and made his small shuffling and jumping way over to Luna's waiting hands. As he met her fingers, which immediately set to exploring the fur and skin of the animal she had spent years looking for with her father, he emitted a very content cooing. It appeared, this morning, that more than one person found what they had been looking for.

Harry gave her a while. He had an idea of how long she had been after the wee beastie in front of her. The honor of her family had been dragged through the mud on account of a number of creatures like the one now before her. No one from the hall at large had noticed them, even Neville had yet to arrive at the table next to them. Harry had decided to leave the fate of Baldur and his folk to the witch in front of him, written in the contract of the teams he had bought the services of was a proviso that they not speak of what they had been doing, success or failure, to another living soul. What she decided would decide the role of human interaction in the lives of the snorkacks for the foreseeable future.

After a time of joyful poking, tickling, prodding, and general getting to know one another, Baldur was asleep in her lap, and Luna looked up at the wizard sitting across from her with a fond look on his face.

"Yes."

* * *

The remaining days passed in a blur of anticipation for the pair. Luna and Harry still circled one another, but they each lost a small portion of the awkwardness that had been cloaking them for the last few weeks. Their hugs lingered longer, and their hand met more often beneath the blue and copper stained table in the great hall.

Harry's lessons with the Scottish transfiguration professor proceeded rapidly. As they began Harry appeared to have a number of left feet, his grace in the air not translating in the slightest to his grace on the dance floor. His quick reflexes that assisted him so in his aim with a wand and in dodging bludgers in previous years worked against him now, his movements were jerking and reactionary.

Minerva almost gave up hope for the boy. Her frustration brought her to within an inch of cursing him, she just couldn't bring together the images of calm and assured boy that earned a mastery in the last month and the fourteen year old in front of her, awkward as he was. Fortunately her nearly cursing him gave her an idea.

_Tarantallegra_, it was a joke charm usually used by students in the hallways to make one another dance uncontrollably. It was famously used to make 'dance' in 79 AD, destroying the city of Pompeii. It also, when used with the correct focus, could make someone dance a specific step in a specific way. It was used by many court wizards on their liege lords in the days of yore, when they found themselves unable to dance in a foreign style during visits to neighboring realms.

It revolutionized their lessons. Harry couldn't dance to save his life, but with her spelling him (Harry thought it more like cursing) to dance correctly, he gained a significant amount of muscle memory for each dance the hard way, over hours of exhaustive practice. Minerva decided to forgo their transfiguration for the entire lead up to the ball, and only let the young Potter go once he could acceptably tango, foxtrot, quickstep, and waltz, both Viennese and English, with the best of them. It took a lot of willpower, but Harry managed to not think ill of her for her effort.

* * *

Luna grew up a pureblood, despite her family and its oddities, and so knew all of the dances that would be called for during the ball. She had owled her daddy to cancel the trip (this year was going to have been Finland and she had always wanted to see a Finnish person, poo), but now she had something much more exciting to owl him about.

She sent the book of notes the tracker had made to him, along with a large number of wizarding pictures of her new friend from almost every angle provided by Colin Creevey. It seemed like the little guy could contract his muscles and produce suction (the humdingers had inspired her to put him against her forehead on the way back from breakfast and she had learned the interesting way), so he spent lot of time on her headboard next to her in bed following her reading and correspondence. Luna kept up Harry's notice-me-not, and Baldur's collar prevented his natural one from keeping her from seeing him. Eventually her parents would be vindicated, it was her mother's theories on magi-cryptozoology that had originally been published by her father and led to the derision of the Lovegood name. One being true would bring them the credit her mother should have gotten.

No one in the wizarding world took them seriously, but the next issue of her father's newspaper would change that, if only slightly.

In her own way, Luna was not surprised by anything that had happened. She knew that Harry believed in her, even if he didn't understand her fully. After the first task, she had made peace with her feelings about the black-haired, green-eyed boy that had come so close to her heart. Her conversations with the humdingers and other creatures she saw gave her a very deep sense of fatalism. She accepted what happened because it was supposed to happen. The humdingers had whispered of it, or the plimpies in the lake had told her. The Nargles whispered at her too, but they didn't speak the truth. She had listened to them in the past and they just led her to trouble. The wrackspurts she saw told her of people who wouldn't or couldn't see things her way. They told her of people who were aggressive, mean, or would simply bring trouble. Sometimes the squid could be counted on for a good word of what would happen, but the whole of it was that she had spent years listening to these whispers, and they were almost never wrong.

This was why she had an idea that morning of things going right. She knew that Harry was coming to feel the same things she did, so she only needed to say yes. She knew all of the other words and feelings. Now she just needed to make sure the ball went well for both of them.

She owled her father, and received in turn a dress belonging to her late mother. It was an expensive one, made of flowing silver thread. It flowed from the V of the neckline down, tumbling over itself in elegant waves. It collected back at the waist, conforming enticingly to the hips, before moving back out in yet deeper waves until it nearly met the floor at her feet. The expense of the dress came mostly from the material (living silver thread was pricey) but also from the charms on it. It would size itself to her when she put it on, and it had a number of charms to ensure she remained decent at all times, but also a few to emphasize her more female attributes and make sure her date would appreciate them. Luna was new to seduction, but it was her suspicion Harry would appreciate her efforts even if they were inexpert at best.

* * *

After far too long, the evening of the 24th arrived. It seemed like Ron couldn't find a date, the day before he had found Fleur in the entrance hall and yelled out, "Will you go to the dance with me!?"

He had stood solidly waiting for an answer for less than five seconds before simply running away in what seemed to be fear. She hadn't moved a millimeter from the pose of haughty disdain she had assumed as soon as he had approached her. Harry guessed that she hadn't contained her allure very well, or Ron was weaker than he thought. Both seemed pretty likely.

Harry met with Neville in the entrance hall before the ball. They had spent most of the day together, tossing the occasional snowball and wondering how the evening would go. Neither of their dates were from Gryffindor, and Harry wasn't from there either since the act of censure. Hannah was coming up from the area near the dungeons that the Hufflepuffs called home, and Luna was coming down the stairs from the tower of the Ravens.

The Abbott heiress arrived first, catching a large number of male eyes in her light pink dress. It was slim and understated, but it displayed her generous womanly charms in a way that caught a lot of attention, most of it from Neville. Harry knew Neville was very fond of the girl (he had waaay too many stories about their shenanigans during the idiotic parties he evidently had to attend for this to be a passing thing), so he was happy to see her trying this hard to attract his friend.

His date arrived with very little fanfare, which Harry was fine with. She looked resplendent in her dress, the waves of silver cascading over her slight frame was one of the finest sights harry had ever seen, though Harry was a bit of a sight himself. Wizarding dress robes hadn't strayed very far from muggle fashions from the 1750s. Harry wore a long black justacorps, going down and out slightly to mid-calf level and bearing the house Potter crest on the breast in thread composed of precious metals. His inner waistcoat was the same shade of silver as her dress (the only thing she _would_ say about her dress beforehand was the color and material, Harry's newfound wealth took care of the rest), and it was nearly form fitting, throwing attention to his newly broad and well-muscled chest. Harry's physique had changed significantly since his exposure to the 'Flame of Life', his increased muscle mass made gave him the form of an Olympic swimmer, and the female population was after him for more than being the boy-who-lived now. The waistcoat was paired with a tie the same shade of green as his eyes, and a pair of breeches the same black as the justacorps, clearly displaying his well-turned calves. It all felt way too formal and stuffy for Harry, but he was no less eye-candy than the lady waiting for him.

The pair tried to make their way quietly to the area the champions were gathering, but on their way gathered eyes from across the room all the same. As they arrived, they found the other champions and their _interesting_ date choices. It seemed like Fleur went for the highest rising non-champion star. Roger Davies was the captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team, and was the sole reason they had been competitive in the last few years. The 'claws usually went too overelaborate in their technical precision and maneuvers, losing out to other's gut and glory approach. Precision is nothing in the face of chaos. Davies' skill went to mitigating that tendency, and made him one of the premier talents being scouted as a coach for major league quidditch. None of that meant he was mentally strong, however, as he seemed to be overwhelmed completely by Fleur's allure.

In an actual surprise, Krum had gone and taken _Hermione_ as his date! Odin only knew what was going through the Bulgarian's head, but there she was with him. Harry had never seen her dressed fancier, but even his years of friendship couldn't make him begin to care. She seemed to be staring at him though.

Cedric had decided to take his girlfriend, Cho Chang, but here instead of amusement and apathy, Harry felt active dislike. He read between the lines of some of the things Luna had said, and he had an idea how bad she and her small gang of other had made life for his little Moon. Harry wasn't having any of it. Chang would come within five feet of Luna only over his dead body.

After about fifteen minutes of some of the most awkward mingling Harry had ever been party to, McGonagall came into the entrance hall and walked up the champions. With a slight wink to her favored student, she said, "Alright everyone, you four and your dates will be leading the rest of the students into the ballroom. I'll open the doors here in just a moment, you four form up in front of the door and we'll get started."

True to her word, she led the eight teenagers to the doors of the great hall, and after shooting a number of silver spark showers from her wand to get the attention of the crowds, she began the ball. At another gesture with her wand, the doors opened and there was a massive collective intake of breath.

The great hall veritably glowed silver and white. The massive beams lining the edges of the great hall were covered in beautiful silver icicles, and the main sections of the roof were temporarily charmed to show a massive and majestic snow storm. The hall was lined with its customary twelve great trees, but each was recessed farther into the sides of the hall to make room for the dozens of smaller circular tables and eventually dance floor. The trees also had huge numbers of living fairies adorning them instead of their usual ornaments, the fairies providing a gentle background buzz to fill the hall with an awkward-silence reducing white noise. Even the floor was charmed with an interesting not-wet, non-sticking snow. It was amazing for atmosphere, and managed to not ruin anyone's clothing, Harry felt the staff had outdone themselves, Fillius especially. Even the massive window that usually capped the hall behind the staff was frosted, and now opened out onto an amazing view of a rose garden that had not been there earlier in the day.

Fleur claimed the honor of first in, followed by Cedric and then Harry. Krum and his apathy brought up the rear.

The Headmasters and ministry representatives were all at the head of the hall in the normal staff table position, the table was expanded to nearly double its normal size, and the champions were evidently meant to be joining them there. It looked like Percy was there too, next to Mr. Crouch. The champions took their seats, and the feast and dance began with some incredibly bad conversation in the group.

Evidently Weasley was code for Weatherby, Krum couldn't pronounce his date's name, and Fleur's date was drooling like it was going out of style. Harry had placed himself between Cedric, _her_, and Luna. His respect dropped another notch for the tall, dark, and handsome Hufflepuff. Dinner was a mildly strained affair, but was thankfully quickly over.

Shortly after the food ran its course, the youngest eight members of the staff table stood and moved to the dance floor. The floor was formed as the tables shuffled to the edge of the room and formed a stage together (Harry was overwhelmed by the skill of the charm work on display, it was incredible, he wasn't sure he could replicate most of it). Eight men in the most artfully torn robes Harry had ever seen took the stage. Harry briefly reflected on his deep understanding of torn robes granted him by his yearly shenanigans, and the strange guys on stage (why in the name of Odin would they call themselves the Weird Sisters) started up on a nice, slow waltz.

From the other champion's performances, Diggory knew how to dance, and they must have taught it at the other schools from how Krum and Delacour took to the floor. Harry noted all of this in the tiniest back corner of his mind, as he and Luna got unspeakably close to one another, and glided along the dance floor.

The song seemed to last forever, and He was incredibly nervous about having his hands on the beautiful witch with him. He had most of the possible steps buried in his muscles somewhere, so he just let them flow and he guided her across the floor, leading her in the occasional spin that caused her dress to flow beautifully like silver water around and out, catching the light and in his studied opinion only distracting from Luna's beauty. She had done her hair up in an elegant braid capped with a silver end piece that spun behind her as they twirled across the floor, it seemed to shine from within as it caught the blues, whites, and silver of the lights directed on the floor. Her face was done in light makeup, just a hint of blush and eye shadow and a darkening of the edges of her eyes, her lips were a darkened pink. It added color to her normal pale shade and complimented the rest of her tonight.

Here was the old soldier he had met on the train in September, but that soldier was in full dress tonight, and finally acting her age. They both were. Her face was lit up like the castle itself, and despite all of the awkwardness and tension so far in the foolish customs and bad companions at the head table, she looked happier than Harry had ever seen her.

After an age passed, the song wound down, the champions collected back in the center of the floor to take a bow to the crowd and musicians, formally opening the official song and dance portion of the evening. With the bows, though, came thundering applause from the collected students. Harry and Luna both immediately colored, and Harry snick a glance at Minerva. She wiped a tear from her eye, and favored Harry with a nod and gentle golf clap. Evidently he had done his teacher proud. What more could he want?

The Weird sisters struck up a faster tune, and the pair sought out Neville and Hannah before joining back in the simultaneously frenzied and elegant movements of a significant portion of the underage wizarding population of Europe.

* * *

The ball began at an early dinner time, 6 pm, and the dancing began at 7 pm sharp. The faculty had generously extended the curfew to 2 am, allowing the students a very nice full night to burn off the stress from the end of the year and the inter-school tensions of the tournament.

Harry and Luna, Neville and Hannah, and Susan and her date Terry Boot had claimed a table at the edge of the great hall. They traded partners amongst themselves during several hours of dancing, and all spent a long time laughing at the circle of drooling and loss of focus that seemed to follow Fleur around. Harry and Neville privately laughed as it seemed as though Krum had the same kind of allure over Ron specifically, though it may be the well made up Hermione he was parading around.

At midnight, Luna took Harry's hand and led him outside to the rose gardens that had been erected around the castle (the Lady had been urging her to leave the hall for some time, and when Hannah gave her and the door a pointed look she decided to go). The gardens were lit by ice sculptures that had been enchanted to glow from within, and the rose bushes formed at shoulder height. It was shadowed enough for a romantic moment, but open enough and well lit enough to stop an intimate one.

She led him to a bench outside, and they took a time to cool off from the dancing. Dumbledore had brought in mulled wine for the event (thoroughly water down), and an evening of dancing had made the pair thirsty, and shortly thereafter a shade tipsy. In truth it was one of the finest times either could remember having. Harry was busy wondering if that reflected on the evening, or his life, and Luna was simply cuddling close to him.

It was a lot like what Harry was rapidly thinking of as another old soldier moment. They both had enough time in the trenches to know that this moment was one to be sipped and savored, not passed through quickly. Their companionable silence continued, and after a period of time they heard another couple approach on the other side of the bushes from them. This wasn't a couple with romantic, or even benign intentions though.

"You coward. Of course I've seen it darkening!" that was a voice both knew, though Harry hadn't had the misfortune to hear it for a while, "Karkaroff, I don't need some betraying dunderhead to tell me what it means. He rises. His power rises. We need not worry for now, behind the walls of Hogwarts we are safe."

"I say, run while ve can. Last var I made mistake of thinking Bulgaria vas far enough. Vas not. This time, I run to Australia, Polynesia perhaps. You join me. There are islands in Polynesia vhere no man vould look on you or I vith second glance. Vatch each other's backs, no?"

Harry met Luna's eyes. Their moment was now officially past. He could feel the hint of regret in her for it having been so short, but now they had to be back to business. Harry out his hands to his lips, and wandlessly cast silencing charms at their feet, and super-sensory charms on them. This felt like something they needed to hear.

Snape spoke again, "Distance is no bar to his power. You should know that. If Bulgaria and the wards of Durmstrang weren't enough, what the hell makes you think Polynesia is? If you run, Karkaroff, you will only die tired, and in more pain than if you had surrendered. If I were you, I would prepare to open the halls of your school to him. Even that may not be enough to stop your death at his hands, but it may quicken it."

It was a small comfort to the two teenagers that Snape's tongue was no less acerbic among death eaters than it was for his students. Sirius had shared Karkaroff's allegiance with Harry, and Harry in turn to Luna, Nev and the Twins.

"Davies! Twenty points from Ravenclaw, and a week's detentions with Mr. Filch! And pull your pants up boy!"

Harry gave an embarrassed and amused look to his date, who passed a similar look back. He had told her what Fleur had tried when the other champions approached him. She had taken to laughing with Harry and Neville at how she used her aura, and how it worked against her more often than not, driving people she needed something from to a drooling mess. They were both guessing something weird, but very like that pattern was happening across the bush from them, both were glad they couldn't see it. They heard the sound of cloth rustling, and then a pair of footsteps breaking away from the pair of professors.

Suddenly the dry but unmistakable voice of Mr. Crouch filtered through the bush, "Now what would two confirmed death eaters be doing, talking alone outside, hmm?"

Harry looked at Luna with a small amount of panic in his eyes, he mouthed to her, "Two? Snape?"

Luna put a finger to her lips, and closed her eyes, listening closer, "Dumbledore says you're changed, Severus, but I don't need to be head of the DMLE anymore to know that there are spots that don't wash out, spots that can't ever be washed off a man. And you, Karkaroff, if anything worse. If there's one thing I hate worse than a death eater that got let off, it's one that betrayed every one of his fellows to do it. Bad enough you're one of those monsters, you don't even have the honor to go to Azkaban with them."

Karkaroff started to protest in his accented English when the Lady of the Castle sent a thread of warning through Harry and his date. They knew enough to listen to her, and both went back to the bench they had occupied, now two rows of bushes over from where they were. As soon as they had begun moving from the area, they heard Percy walk up and begin speaking to his boss. When they got back they resumed their positions, Luna cuddling even further into Harry under his arm. Harry cast a light warming charm, and put his head against hers.

"Does this change anything?" Harry asked quietly.

"No. We knew we couldn't trust Snape. Sirius told you about Karkaroff."

"I... I don't want to go back in, but I don't think we should stay here. Do... do you want to go back to my lab?"

Luna knew where it was, he had shown her himself, but she hadn't been back since the day she had slept with him. He felt a little awkward asking her back, especially since a part of him hoped today would end the same way. He wouldn't, couldn't ask for it. But he could try to make it possible even if he couldn't use the words.

"I'd like that."

Harry's heart rate doubled. He offered his arm, she accepted, and they slowly made their way to his lab, guided by a warm feeling in the halls in front of them. They could sense the Lady approving. Soon enough they arrived at the lab, and Harry conjured a pair of elegant chairs and a well-appointed wooden end table between them. He offered Luna the first one, then sat next to her.

"Dobby?" Harry called out. The excited elf appeared before the teenagers, now wearing a small set of pant and a button up shirt in black, both of which appeared to be composed primarily of pockets. The elf had been very excited to design his own uniform for work under house Potter, Harry figured he now understood why.

"Harry Potter Sir called?"

"How many times do I have to ask," Harry said with a long suffering smile, "for you to just call me Harry?"

Dobby wore a large smile, "One more times, Harry Potter Sir. Can I be getting yous something?"

"Please bring us tea, friend."

Dobby opened a pocket, and pulled out full tea service, still steaming. He set it on the table between them, and popped away again. Luna gave Harry a curious look, and he explained.

"I freed Dobby from the Malfoy's back in second year. They were horribly abusive to him, and I didn't really understand house elves or their bond at the time, I just saw him in trouble and I had to help. I found out recently that he bound himself to house Potter that day, that's why he has been so eager to take care of me all year and why we mostly see him when we call for help from an elf. He kinda claimed dominion over helping me and my friends with the Lady's permission."

Luna started laughing, "It seems like I'm not the first one you helped come from a bad place."

Harry colored and looked away. He just tried to help people! As he looked away Luna leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, a bare brush of her lips against the skin. Harry turned a Weasley red and couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Thank you, Harry. For being there for me, for helping Dobby, for just being you and doing all of it without pausing to see if you'll come ahead in the exchange or thinking about repayment. That's what Gryffindor stands for." The Lady sent a warm feeling of agreement.

Harry grabbed for his center, and used it like a lightning rod for his embarrassment, and in a moment could bring himself to look at his date again. She hadn't leaned back from her kiss to his cheek, and when he turned, she repeated her move on his lips.

It was a very chaste kiss, but with emotion on her side, and his stranglehold on his center on his, it lasted an eternity for both of them. Just a whisper, just the barest hint of contact. A hummingbird's wings brushed air with more force, but not with more feeling.

"Wha... what was that for?" Harry asked as they separated an instant after they started.

"For what you did for me. For being my friend, and sharing your friends with me. That was your compensation for being there for me, like Dobby's help and care is his."

Harry was stunned. She didn't have to... kiss him. He would have helped anyone. It felt good though. Not just the kiss. He risked his life, and his friend's lives, to save the stone first year and the only recognition was house points. Second year he was nearly crushed to death by a Molly Weasley hug, and then the same. Third year he had his world turned around, then was sent back to his own personal hell. It was sorta nice to be rewarded.

"But you don't hav-"

"Of course I don't. Of course we don't. It's why we do."

Luna felt the Lady urging her on, and of late even the nargles had been following her lead in this. Luna wanted to listen to them, she wanted to move her relationship with Harry up a notch, but she was filled with just as much fear as he was in this moment. He didn't have a millennia old sentient castle and a dozen varieties of magical creature constantly urging him on though.

"Harry," she reached out and took his hand, "I have an important question for you. I've been feeling closer and closer to you every day since September first, you have been meaning more and more to me every day. It was one of the best days in my life when you asked me to the ball, today has only been better. Will you be my boyfriend?"

Harry had been having the best day of his life until now. It just kept getting better.

"Yes."


	16. Chapter 15:Winter Break, Task the Second

Chapter 15

Harry had a girlfriend. It was a first for him, and not just a first because he wasn't good with the fairer sex. As Harry figured it, Luna was probably the first person to see all of their options in the breadth of Hogwarts, and choose him.

Ron he had only known because he met his family early on, and the redhead was blinded by the whole boy-who-lived thing, which Harry suspected is why they had shared a car. Hermione he had saved when she had no friends, he had sort of become one for her by default.

Even Nev and the Twins weren't really like Luna in that respect. Sure, he had been the proverbial port in the storm for her, but she had all of Hogwarts to go to. If she had gone to Flitwick, the half-goblin would have damn near disemboweled whoever was hurting her, even if it was another one of his ravens.

She had chosen him though, and this was only the first real upset of the winter break for him.

Harry had snuck out of the grounds after arranging a distraction with his brothers. All he had to do in payment is pick up a few crates of orders they had waiting at a printer in Diagon. He made his way to the floo in the Three Broomsticks (Harry used a wordless _Diffindo_ to sever a tap, free beer was quite a distraction, he also quietly left enough gold to pay for the keg behind the counter) and from there to Diagon Alley.

Harry was destined for a chair in the shared office of life mates Gemshaper and Ragnok, Mistress of Procurement and Clan chief of the goblins of Gringotts respectively. Until he had met and worked with the elves at Hogwarts, he had always thought of goblins, centaurs, merpeople, and elves as all being the same as humans. It was only in quiet conversations with Nifty and others in the dinner cleanup crew that he found he was wrong in that. They weren't human, and they were proud of it. It meant something different, something unique, to be a house elf. They had their own laws, their own codes of behavior. It was significant to them to be allowed to clean, to be trusted to prepare food and to be honored for their help.

When he slowly reached this conclusion, he had to rethink everything he knew of the 'non-humans' and 'half-breeds'. He hadn't spoken with one directly, but the tone of his exchange with Gemshaper changed when he pieced that conclusion together. The way he saw it, the goblins put stock in efficiency and profit. They were a race that valued their honor, and they were only a few generation from the era when they had still worked out their internal disputes by single combat to the death in an arena. They were a curious mix of warrior and banker, and if Harry understood it correctly, that mix was why his family's wealth had done so well while outside his control. They woke up, put on their suit and tie, and wielding briefcases like they would axes in the days of yore, they went and did financial battle in stock markets and currency exchanges.

It was a little funny, Harry thought, but it was serious all the same. That is what it meant to be a goblin. Honor, profit, glory. Harry met the clan chief and his mate with that idea in mind, and it could not have gone better. Well inter-personally anyway.

Harry claiming rights as his head of house could not be hidden. It was in fact something the goblins were obligated to publish in the wizarding papers. They had held off however, until he could speak with them. He told the two honestly of his suspicions about Dumbledore, how he seemed to be using the Potter name and deliberately not helping Sirius. Ragnok sadly confirmed this. The only bright spot was that he said that with a goblin legal team at his back (Harry had been quick to request one, bringing a terrifying smile to Ragnok's aged face), not even Dumbledore could keep Harry under his influence after this summer.

They met Harry with much more detailed ledgers of his accounts, including inventories of non-gold assets in the family vault. It seemed like Harry had a lot to go through. Ragnok pointed his attention to the hundreds of thousands Dumbledore had been siphoning off of the Potter fortune, earmarked for things like shoring up the Hogwarts budget, and providing tuition for a lot of scholarship students (all of the Weasleys were on the list, Harry sighed).

According to the pattern of withdrawals, there wasn't going to be another until mid-way through the summer, so Harry figured if the cat was already going to leave the bag, at least Harry could keep his gold from leaving with it. They got Harry a new key, and voided the old ones. Harry also asked if anything could be done about his losses. He wasn't overly worried about the effects on his future. The Potters had guarded their wealth somewhat jealously. His father had put a significant amount of money into the war effort during his time, but goblin management had recouped all of their losses.

The two goblins knew of the tournament, and offered to keep his announcement of assuming the head of house position until the summer as well. Harry asked how, but Ragnok's response was only a wink. If he had to guess, he would assume that their warrior ways had made them adept at the tools of the banking trade, namely the navigation of red tape.

After their business was concluded, they had a wonderful hour together just taking tea. Goblin tea was thick, and Earthy. It looked like they steeped an odd collection of mosses and fungi to make it, but Harry couldn't even begin to argue with the results. Harry got to know the couple a little more closely, and they him in return. The poor boy had no idea that he was passing the time with the ruler over all British goblins, nor indeed how precious Ragnok's time was. The last four ministries combined had spent less time talking with him than Harry had just today.

At the end of their time, Harry asked to go down to his vaults, and he also requested a goblin they trusted to continue being the manager of his accounts. Harry voiced his suspicion that the only reason he was doing so well was how the financial warriors of the goblin nation had done battle on his behalf. Harry felt honored by their work, and he said as much. Gemshaper looked at her husband at that, and Ragnok got a curious gleam in his eye before slowly agreeing. Harry wasn't sure what was happening, but he had a feeling he had done something either very right, or very very wrong. The pair personally led him down to his vault, Harry invited them to enter with him and call out if they saw anything interesting when they attempted to stop at the vault door. Harry figured that if he couldn't trust the Clan Chief of Gringotts, there wasn't a living soul he could.

The vault Harry entered was the family one, his only vault besides his trust vault. It had generations of valued knick-knacks that Harry would have to later look at. It seemed the potters of old were obsessed with enchantment. Harry spied a number of primitive looking time-turners, and more than a few strange carved bowls that Gemshaper identified as pensieves. There was a massive set of goblin made armor in the back, full plate mail like the knights used to wear. There was sadly nothing that had belonged to his parents, it had all burned that night in 1981.

Harry removed only a sack of gold, and a small goblin made dagger that would fit either strapped to his leg or in the small of his back. He was very quiet on the ride back up. The valuables of more than a thousand years of Potters couldn't fail to remind him of what he lost. The two goblins noticed this, and gave him some space for his thoughts.

When they arrived back in the great marble main hall of Gringotts, Harry thanked the two profusely. He tried his best to put his family out of mind. He was going back to school. He needed his mind there. The Potters could wait for the summer, they weren't going anywhere. Ragnok and Gemshaper waved off his thanks, but he smiled and gave it anyway. Making his way under glamors back to the leaky cauldron (with a detour for his brothers), he went back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Time passed slowly, but pass it did, and Harry's life quickly developed a routine after the start of the New Year. His time was split pretty evenly between research and development on his bracer (acromantula silk on the inside was a must, his experiment chafed something awful and he had to add it after the fact), time in lessons with Flitwick and McGonagall, and time spent with Luna and his friends.

He never missed a meal now, as they were prime lady-friend time. He also made sure to escort her back to her tower after dinner before he showed up in the kitchens to help/bother the elves. His relationship was moving at a very comfortable pace. Harry wasn't sure what to do with intimacy, and neither was Luna, but they were honest about it and even if the only contact they shared was the odd cuddle and light kiss, they were moving forward.

The bracer project was almost complete. Harry balanced all of the reagents (thanks mostly to Fawkes' gift of tears), and had brought all of them safely into the tanning potion arithmetically. He had everything from the goblins, and Hagrid had been only too happy to help Harry with a project, especially since his giant heritage was a boon to the project.

Hagrid had been having a rough and inebriated time lately. Somehow Skeeter had caught wind of Hagrid's heritage and was dragging him through the press. Harry met with him every class period and spent a bit of time outside class with Luna and Nev comforting him. Harry knew what it was like to be loved one minute and hated the next. A lot of the same people that had turned on him as the heir of Slytherin were turning on Hagrid now. Harry just offered quiet support the whole time. He considered sending a statement of support for the half-giant, but that would only bring more attention to something his first friend wanted to put behind him.

The only strange thing of note was the fact that Moody had taken to following him around in the halls and talking loudly about the benefits and weaknesses of giant squid, as well as the tactical disposition of your average mermish village. Harry was guessing this was like his reaction to the first task, and perhaps Dumbledore had set the man to watch over and subtly (or not so subtly) ensure Harry either survived or completed it in a certain way. No matter why, Harry just tuned the man out. He was confident in his abilities, and actively didn't care either way.

* * *

The morning of the second task began misty, and cold as a witch's teat in an iron bra (Harry had asked Luna about the phrase, but she had only looked mysterious and refused to respond). Harry woke with the sun and felt the deep buzzing in his stomach and muscles like he used to get before a quidditch match.

He decided to just cut the middle man from the morning, and head directly down to the lake. Dobby could bring him a bit of toast and bacon. Harry wrote Luna a quick note, and enchanted it to fold itself into a crane and fly to her in the tower. She might come down to meet him or she might not, anything involving morning Luna was a crap shoot.

Harry dressed for the cold, but not for water. From the hints Moody had been dropping with increasing regularity over the last few days, Harry was sure there would be some kind of underwater component to the task and that it was down at the lake. Harry may be a lot of things, but he wasn't crazy, entering any body of water during a Scottish February was not on his to do list.

As he walked through the empty Great Hall to the Black Lake, the Lady Hogwarts was sending him calming feelings, and just a hint of confidence. Just like last time, it seemed she agreed with his friends. If Harry said he could do it, he could do it.

When Harry arrived at the lake, it seemed that he had made a good bet. The boats that took the first years to their sorting were arrayed along the dock, and a number of structures had been built in the middle of the lake. The structures looked like combination platform/stands, and Harry really hoped they had had the living daylights enchanted out of them, because in this weather and at this time of the year, anyone falling off had a solid chance of getting frostbite at a minimum before even Poppy could get to them.

When he arrived at the lake he removed his wand from his shield bracer and gave it a swish as he wandlessly conjured himself a chair. He decided that the old goat that ran the school may be a terrible person, but he had the right idea for summoned chairs. If you could have comfort, why not have it? He loved Minerva, he really did, but she took her stern facade too far in some ways.

Before long Ludo Bagman had walked up and made himself another chair next to Harry. The usually over excited man was solemn today for some reason. Harry had a suspicion from some comments Ragnok made that Bagman had bet a lot more than he could cover on Harry, so he figured the retired beater might be in mourning over his finances. Sucks to be him, Harry thought, don't bet on a horse that doesn't want to win. All of the judges had been both impressed and worried for him after the first task, but when he never made a single move to get the egg they had ended up scoring him one apiece, even Flitwick. Harry was comfortable in last place with six points. He would have been happier with zero, but he'd take what he could get.

The mist that had been covering the ground cleared out once the sun was properly in the sky. At around 7 am students from Durmstrang appeared and claimed the farthest platform out as their own. They looked toasty in their furs, and as Harry was contemplating the virtues of conjuring up some for himself, the Beauxbatons contingent made their appearance. The group of mostly female French witches opened the floodgates, and by 8:30 everyone was in place and ready.

Harry hadn't moved from his place by the shore, now buried in a veritable mountain of incredibly cozy furs. Harry had almost convinced Freyr to stay in the lab today, but the cheeky little guy was insistent, so only Harry's eyes really showed from beneath the mountain and the niffler riding his head.

Bagman had left his seat next to the youngest champion when the other judges arrived, and Harry had laughed as he marked the appearance of his former friends and their confusion at the pile of furs he represented. When the clock struck 8:30, bagman stood from behind the judging table, and cast a _Sonorus _on himself.

"Welcome one and all to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament! Our four intrepid champions today have to brave the waters of this icy lake to find and retrieve something, or should I say someone, very precious to them!"

Harry finally put together why he hadn't seen Luna in that moment, and he was annoyed that they would use her like this. If she was hurt, he planned to tear the Goblet apart piece by piece, and to severely beat anyone involved in her capture for the event.

"Our champions will have one hour to find and rescue their captives, starting in 3… 2… 1… GO!"

Fleur and Diggory both cast bubblehead charms on themselves and just jumped in. As amusing as watching a veela in a two piece jump into freezing water was, Harry found himself critiquing her charm work and finding it wanting. She would be lucky to last half an hour with it in place, but Diggory had done well enough. Krum tried for some kind of human-to-shark transfiguration, but botched it halfway through. He looked terrifying, but as he jumped in his work seemed effective.

By now most in the stands had used the process of elimination to put together that he was the massive pile of furs on the comfy looking brown velvet chair. After a straight minute of inactivity to make them sweat, he decided that Luna was worth saving and that as much as he didn't want to, he should make a token effort. Besides, he had been looking forward to finding an excuse to try out Sirius' frictionless charms.

Harry dispelled his mountain, and stood, banishing the chair behind him. With a show, he brandished his wand from his bracer, and conjured a platoon of golems. They stood two feet tall and looked like a crude human form made only of rectangular blocks. He enchanted them each with the frictionless movement in water that Sirius had mentioned, and animated them to head to the mermish village and bring him Luna.

In his lessons with Flitwick he had toyed with the use of open ended intentions like that for use in animation. Traditionally one had to have a specific idea in mind for an animation. It was actually part of the grading criteria in an OWL test. You had to mentally specify a direction, a speed, and a distance. A lack of any one of these would often find your pineapple tap dancing out the door, or so fast as to make its own door. Open ended intentions were possible, but required significantly greater concentration, focus, and power. Luckily Harry had most of that in spades.

Playing to the crowd a bit, Harry bowed to the golem crowd he made, and they in turn bowed back before running into the water, none making so much as a ripple as they all moved into the water.

Now Harry had to play the waiting game, and he hated that. There was no such thing as being bored. He had a tanning potion to brew, charms to research, and more laws of transfiguration to break and re-define. There were better uses for his time than this. He sighed.

_Protego Maxima! _Harry cried, and with a second breath, _Fianto Duri!_ A golden translucent shield surrounded him in a sphere. Harry willed it break at the top, and form under his feet as he slowly walked on to the lake. He closed his eyes in concentration once he had made it five feet out into the water. He had cast the strongest shield he knew, and counting on it to act as a physical barrier as well as a magic one. As his brow furrowed in concentration, he formed the golden shield into a well-appointed 5 by 5 foot barge, the translucence extending back upward forming rails and a roof, griffins in flight depicted at each corner formed by the union of a supporting rod and the covering.

With a thought, he sent his barge adrift on the lake and formed himself a couch. If they made him waste an hour, at least he'd get a nap out of it.

Twenty or so minutes passed, and Harry had worked himself into a nice doze. Whether it was his intention or not, the shield was a very comfortable temperature and it lulled him into just under a lucid state. Harry cast a modified _Silencio_ around him that just dampened sound, but didn't cancel it entirely. He wanted to know when the others surfaced, and if his golem squad even worked. He thought they had pretty even odds of getting there, depending on whether or not magic interpreted his will as _find_ Luna or _search_ for Luna.

He was shaken from his doze as the noise outside increased exponentially. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes, and looked at the shore. Freyr gave a snore from his chest where he was laying, and Harry found the source of the noise.

A very bleeding and if anything more scantily clad veela was being half pulled from the lake by a very worried half-giant. She had long scratches running along her legs, and parts of her sports bra looking top were missing. The water wasn't helping her appearance, it spread the blood further out and made her look like she had seen the business end of a mincing spell.

Harry was amused to note that she had no one with her, so she had not made it to the goal. And assuming the ritual had gone off without a hitch earlier that year, she seemed to be ranting about tiny stone men who had saved her from certain death as they marched past. She was wildly casting around for any rocks she could reach and was kissing them as she loudly praised Ymir for the use of his bones. Harry collapsed back onto his couch, laughing. Of course he had unintentionally saved that stupid spoiled French bint.

Harry decided it wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, and instead decided to check out the crowd. Harry couldn't see into the water for anything, but the stands seemed to be enchanted for a clear view because the eyes of the crowd were following the progress of a three different objects. If he had to guess, one of the three things was nearing the center of the lake. If he had to further guess he would say it was his golem crew, because the Gryffindors were shouting the loudest and most of the viewers were glancing at him between looks at the water. Well that wouldn't do, the Gryffs should be ashamed, not happy. Harry's face twisted into a frown.

This is going too well, he thought, how can I change the terms of this? What would disrupt the event…? He grinned.

Harry closed his eyes, and moved his awareness with his magic down to his feet resting on the _Protego_ beneath him. He sent both questing out of his body downward (so he could do that! He had been wanting to try it but hadn't found the time), as his awareness extended out of him he felt a much wider slice of the world. His sense of self and of the world moved downward through the dense medium of the lake. He felt a few small schools of fish flit from here to there across the edges of his senses. A massive tentacle from the squid moved completely across him, and Harry felt an understanding of the squid pass through him as he moved past it and further down.

Finally he reached the lake bed, and its hundreds of dark and slimy denizens. An awareness of each of them moved through his sight as he searched outward for his men. After a moment of questing in the direction he had seen the crowd looking, he could feel his stone men running and jumping along the bottom of the lake towards their prize. It seemed like they had gone on a straight line path to the mer-village he could identify at the edges of his awareness. He re-wrote a small part of their mission, then opened his eyes and wrapped his arms behind his head, closing his eyes again on his couch.

His shield platform idly made its way to the shore, and after another twenty minutes went by, Harry felt his troops nearing the shore again. The barge was back on land at this point, so harry dispelled it, and conjured a bench and table like you might find in the great hall. He called out to dobby, and had a full English breakfast put onto the table, as well as three mugs of steaming coffee lined up next to a padded section of the bench.

The golems broke the surface, three each underneath every one of the captives. Harry had stolen all of them. The golem crew was looking a little worse for the wear. The mermen were not happy to have all of their charges stolen at once, and the group bore a large number of deep scratches as evidence. The final golem to leave the water actually had a struggling grindylow attached to its torso, still attempting to strangle the stone man and drag it back under water. One of his golems actually had a trident fully piercing it. Harry laughed out loud, some merman must have stabbed his golem, and his golem just walked away with it!

Cho, Hermione, and a small clone of Fleur were all dumped unceremoniously on the ground in front of the medical tent. Fleur cried out and tried to grab the nearest golem to give it a kiss, but before she could reach any of them, they simply melted into the ground. It seemed like the golems wanted Fleur's affections as much as Harry did.

Luna was carried over to the table Harry had made and Dobby had stocked. All of the captives had regained consciousness as they crested the surface of the lake. Cho and Hermione had struggled, resulting in mild bruising, but the tiny veela and Luna had simply taken it in stride.

Luna was gently placed into Harry's arms, where with three flicks of his wand she was dried, warmed, and had a blanket put on her. Harry moved her gently to the table and placed the mug labeled '#1' in front of her, letting her get a strong whiff of it to encourage her to actually open her eyes.

She of course refused to, but she took the cup from his hand and sight unseen drained it in a single move.

"Mmmmm… You know me so well, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled and stood. He made another pretend wand flick at his throat, "I dedicate this victory to my girlfriend Luna Lovegood and my godfather Sirius Black. Thank you."

That ought to stir the pot a bit.


	17. Chapter 16: The Pot, Having Been Stirred

Chapter 16

Krum and Cedric were incredibly angry to have both been sure they were over time and completely unable to find their hostage, only to finally surface and see their hostages shivering in the medical tent while Harry and his were enjoying a late breakfast.

Bagman was beyond ecstatic, but all of the other judges seemed as though they had taken pepper ups, with steam streaming from their ears. Madame Maxine was the least angry, Harry had inadvertently saved her student after all, but Karkaroff seemed about a minute away from demanding his head. Crouch's face was pinched and consumed with anger, and Dumbledore was playing his disappointed grandfather face so hard Harry suspected it might set like that if he wasn't careful. Flitwick was definitely angry, but he seemed so interested in Harry's work that he wasn't sure what his reaction should be.

The crowd also wasn't sure what to think. Usually at this point there'd be cheering or something, but it was more of a confused rumble emanating from the platforms. No one was quite sure what to make of Harry dedicating his win to the man that had killed his parents, or of Harry stealing everyone's hostage. Harry thought Padfoot might get a laugh out of both of those.

Before long, Bagman's voice shouted out across the now quiet waters, "The judges have come together for scoring, and we have the following results to share. Coming in first place, with excellent use of animation charms as well as transfiguration, Mr. Harry Potter. Unfortunately, for taking all of the hostages, not just his own, and abandoning his fellow champions to search fruitlessly underwater until the conclusion of time, we have taken twenty-five of his fifty points!"

The crowd responded with another confused rumbling. Evidentially the dedication of the win along with the performance had put all of the schools and all of the houses in a position where they genuinely weren't sure if they should to cheer. The confusion kept going loudly for about twenty seconds until Bagman made to speak again. Before he could get a word off, a huge amount of fireworks burst from the top of the nearest viewing platform. They took the form of a massive dragon (a horntail, it figured), which left a trail as it flew, spelling out 'Potter Wins!' in front of the stands and judges. Harry loved his brothers.

Bagman impressively cleared his throat while under the _Sonorus_ and resumed, "Mr. Diggory was the next quickest to reach the village of the mer-people at the base of the lake, and will be given forty points for his excellent use of the bubble head charm. Mr. Krum performed an impressive if incomplete human transfiguration, and will be given thirty-five points for his performance in getting to the village third. Mrs. Delacour, who performed an admirable bubble head charm but was overwhelmed by grindylow before being saved by Mr. Potter's army of mini-golems," Harry _really_ didn't like the gleam he saw in Fleur's eye at that, "will be given twenty points. Please join us all for the third and final task of the Triwizard tournament on June twenty-fourth, no information will be given out about the task until the week before. Thank you all for coming out!"

Harry led Luna off to her tower so she could shower and change clothes. After waiting for her for about five minutes at the door, he grew bored and solved the riddle, taking a seat in the Ravenclaw common room and disturbing an amused group of seventh years who had foregone the task for studying or personal projects.

When Luna came down she shook her head and made an exasperated noise at what could only be the antics of Harry Potter. The couple made their way to their warded table in the library.

* * *

Days after the task, Harry was still getting unusual looks from people from every school. Beauxbatons girls were tittering behind their hand as he came near. He hadn't forgotten the look of hunger he'd received from Fleur at the end of the task, so those gave him a very bad feeling. The fur-wearers were giving him looks that would be deadly if they had any power behind them (Harry had been wondering if he could actually channel a spell out his eyes like that, but didn't have the nerve to try, his being able to see without glasses was too new to risk). Hogwarts was torn between wonder at the powers Harry was showing and anger for his treatment of Cedric.

Harry actually felt a little guilty for that. Krum was as surly as they came and all told Harry felt nothing for snubbing him, but Harry liked a few 'Puffs, and he felt bad for treating their champion like that, even if he was a bit of a berk.

The looks only got worse with the next issue of Witch Weekly to come out. It seemed that Skeeter had taken his dedication to his godfather and Luna to some illogical conclusions, and had no compunction about sharing them with the world.

He had explained to Luna his reasons for doing what he had done (he liked her and had no trouble with folks knowing, also that minor matter of 'Stubby Boardman's' innocence) and she had understood and approved. It looked like Skeeter was taking whatever passed for kid gloves for her off.

Witch Weekly had a number of articles about Harry. Front page material was an expose on his own Ms. Lovegood, covering the opinions of a number of her former tormentors as well as the opinions of a few Slytherins that were claiming that she had used love potions to claim him. Luna wasn't concerned, she never was about these things, but Harry was plenty angry for her. Unfortunately that wasn't all.

Rita had cornered an angry Hermione after the task it seemed, and the aforementioned Granger had aired a number of grievances. Harry hadn't spoken a word to her since the aftermath of the first task, and she was not pleased. She had gotten the idea from somewhere that he had undergone dark rituals to increase intelligence and power. Her normal obsessive research had turned up a number of rituals designed for both purposes, though how Harry was to have taken the virginity of a witch on the eve of her 17th birthday, as well as even found a quintaped to kill in ritual combat, was beyond him.

Skeeter took her research and ran with it. Apparently ministry detectors had registered several unsanctioned apparations in and out of the Isle of Drear recently, and when she had made 'discreet' inquiries, droves of witches had come out of the woodwork claiming to have given their virginity to the boy-who-lived. She neglected to mention that ministry detectors registered hundreds of aparations through Drear yearly, and that its beaches were a focal point for adrenaline junkie wizards with more gold than sense. She also neglected to mention that to date several hundred witches had come forward claiming to have had sex with him, most since he turned eleven, thankfully. Wizarding Britain really wasn't giving him a lot of reason to stick around. Harry had heard France and Spain were nice this time of year. Australia even shared a language.

Malfoy saw fit to visit the Ravenclaw table on the morning of Witch Weekly's publication. Harry was less than amused.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. Dark rituals, really? Can't you leave those for your betters?" Crabbe and Goyle too their positions at the small blonde's sides, "You sad son-of-a-mudblood. And what's this? You falling for some whore's love potions now too? Pity you weren't raised with the rest of us real wizards so you coul..."

Draco's mouth kept moving, but no noise left. Harry hadn't moved or drawn his wand, he had gotten a lot better at casting without movement or words. He needed more practice, but his control was good enough for this. He moved from his seat. Harry was quiet and willing to let most of what Malfoy said slide, the idiot practically defined bark but no bite. Harry saw the millisecond of haunted look in Luna's eye, though. He couldn't pretend to know the first thing about girls, but he knew that Luna hurt, despite how she acted. Harry only needed the millisecond. He was getting good with charm modification.

"I'm sorry Draco, what was that you were saying?" Harry held a hand to his ear, "I can't quite make it out."

Crabbe and Goyle both took half a step forward, but before they could complete it, they were in full body binds.

"I thought I heard you insult my girlfriend. Let me make something perfectly, _deadly_ clear to you. You can mouth off about me all you want. You know you're useless, I know you're useless, that's fine. But the exact moment you begin to attack anyone near me, I will end you," Harry spread his hands in front of him, "Did you see me move a wand, or even draw one, little dragon? Because I didn't. My hands have yet to move from my fork and knife here. Now I want you're pathetically tiny brain to think of what would happen to you if I did draw."

Draco was clutching at his throat, his eyes filled with concern and worry. He couldn't talk! He didn't know non-verbal casting, that was NEWT level, he wasn't ready for that!

Harry stood, reached across the table, and slapped the panicking boy, the sound bringing a small measure of quiet to the tables around them. Harry's hand left the Slytherin's shocked (but focused) face, and pointed directly between his eyes.

"Pay attention now, because I will tell you, and by extension your father and all of Slytherin this once, and once only. I have asked for this, I am fair game. You so much as look at anyone I care about, and you will wish to your tiny worthless ancestors that you had never been born. You think you have seen my magic, but you do not know a hundredth part of my power, worm. If any of you look at my friends the wrong way, I will break you."

Harry slapped the boy again.

"Now nod your worthless head and show me you understand."

Draco did, his face gone completely white.

Harry sat back at his table, next to Luna. Neville had yet to join them, Malfoy had approached from where the no longer as timid boy would have usually sat. The exchange between the two boys had been whispered, but the crack of the two slaps to Draco's face had not gone as unnoticed as the words had been. From the way his whole visible body had drained of what little color the normally pale boy had, Harry felt his message had gotten across. He had thought about it, and Harry wasn't ready to kill, not yet. Harry was ready to curse within an inch of any of their worthless bigoted lives though, and in the admittedly small experience of the boy, that was almost as good.

Snape had seen both strikes from the staff table. None of the other professors had ever challenged him, and with the support of the headmaster, the potions teacher doubted they ever would. He stood and made his way to the Ravenclaw table as his godson (strangely) made his silent way back to the table of silver and green.

"Potter! Fifty points and a week's detention for hitting another student!," Snape closed with his most hated student, and continued in a near whisper as he reached the space behind Harry, "Do you think you're something special, boy? Do you think because you cheated your way into this competition, and because you have broken so many rules that you mean something?"

Snape grabbed the magazine from the hands of that worthless Lovegood girl and brandished it in Potter's face, "It doesn't matter how many times your blighted name appears in print, you're nothing but an arrogant child, just like your father, thinking you mean something."

Harry turned from his place and looked Snape in the eye, not showing an ounce of the fear the potions master so desperately sought. Snape had yet to play his trump card though. His right hand reached into his left sleeve, and partially revealed a small vial of clear potion.

"Do you know what this is, Potter? Its veritaserum. The most powerful truth potion known to wizard-kind. Just a drop would have you spilling your deepest secrets to the most innocuous question," He tilted his hand slightly, "Just a drop in your evening pumpkin juice, and you would be anyone's plaything."

Harry had enough. The games were getting tiresome. He wasn't quite the dullard they seemed to expect him to be after the last few years. The summer, and the tutelage of Minerva and Fillius had given him something he had never had before, confidence. With a strength that seemed to belie his age, Harry grabbed the front of the potions master's robes, and pulled them so the man's ear was at his mouth.

"Let me tell you something, Severus, I've had you're potion before. It meant nothing to me. I could beat veritaserum in my sleep. So go ahead, you worthless git, I'll go with you, drop for drop, and we'll see who has more secrets to spill, death eater. I'm worth a dozen of you on my worst day. Take your pitiful potions, and walk your worthless way back to your seat. You are older than any three students present, but you try to intimidate teenagers. My father could have been a bully every day he was here, but he would have been better than a creepy old man trying to show he was better than a bunch of students."

Harry released Snape's robes, and with a drastically overpowered compulsion, sent the man back to his seat at the staff table. If Skeeter decided to play with the kid gloves off, he could too. They could see how many shares in the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly a few hundred thousand galleons would bring, and if Rita still had a job by the end, they could work from there.

No one threatened his Luna. Harry had never had a lot worth fighting for, but if Luna was worth rescuing during the task, she was worth his effort now. Malfoy could see how two days without speech felt, and if Harry knew his work, Snape could see how he liked a day where every moment spent not eating at the staff table was mental agony.

* * *

Time, and a few goblin guided purchases of controlling shares saw the fervor surrounding him die. Harry almost expected to have to talk to an auror over the allegations in the papers, but apparently Bones in the DMLE took as dim a view of the British papers as he did.

When he bought the controlling shares in the paper, he just made sure the editors knew their jobs were on the line any time his name was mentioned. He toyed with the idea of enforcing editorial standards, and ensuring journalistic integrity, but why should he? He could count the number of wizards he trusted and knew were on his side on one arse cheek. Society could go hang itself, Harry had loose plans to ditch Britain when he came of age. Things were moving slow, but if Luna and Xeno wanted to come with him, he need never return.

* * *

Harry showed up to his normal lesson time with Flitwick, and was genuinely unsurprised to see an extremely self-satisfied Scotswoman and the aged head of the Wizarding Examinations authority. He did sigh though.

"Mr. Potter! I believe you may have an idea why I'm here, would you like a cup of tea?"

Minerva was twinkling at an intensity that Dumbledore would be hard pressed to match, and Harry's favorite half-goblin looked like he was near bursting from pride.

"I'd love one Madam Marchbanks-"

"Please, call me 'Selda. I think that the soon to be youngest holder of two masteries in English history can be afforded a little leeway."

Harry had begun questioning his sanity of late. If Vernon hadn't convinced the Masons to come over, he wouldn't have spent three days in Diagon, he'd have come here and been unprepared, no extra training, Ron being a berk, Hermione being an undercover backstabber. This year was surreal, being close to his magic, feeling it, had changed every piece of his world.

Luna had mentioned once, as her great aunt Alice had said, when you go down the rabbit hole or through the looking glass, your options were to sit and cry or see the thing through and become a queen. As much as Harry wasn't looking forward to his eventual coronation, her advice was sound.

Harry had seen this coming, and not just because he had seen Madam Marchbank's face at his animation and shield charms. He strongly suspected Minerva's hand in pushing for his masteries. At any rate Harry had an idea for what he would like to do, and the Lady approved, but he needed to run it by the group before him.

"Selda, Minerva, Fillius, what do you all know about the magic of Hogwarts?"

Fillius and Marchbanks looked to Minerva, who addressed the group, "Well the story goes that at a time of strife, when the wild magic of the druids, Celts, and ancient Norsemen were running dangerously through the land, the four strongest sorcerers of the age got together and formed from the chaos of raw magic a castle where the young could be taught and their powers harnessed before they could harm the land. The founders were said to have put a piece of their souls in the castle, for how else could the building made from the fabric of magic hold itself together for so long and so well?"

"What if I told you that wasn't entirely the truth. Have you ever wondered why the staircases move, or why, sometimes, when you need something or are late the hallways can seem to guide you in the right directions by themselves? What I am about to tell you isn't really a secret, but your discretion would be appreciated nonetheless. This castle is alive, it's self-aware. It knows what it is, and what we are, and it, I guess for lack of a more complete word, loves each and every one of us."

The group seemed surprised, but not as much as Harry suspected they would be. They were more thoughtful.

"What I would like to do is create a golem, much like I did during the task, but my intent is to enchant the living daylights out of it, make it permanent, and connect it to the living spirit of the castle. I want to give the Lady Hogwarts, the Lady of the Castle, an avatar. I believe I can do it. I can't talk to the Lady, she doesn't speak or seem to communicate like we do, but she has expressed approval for the idea, and if she approves of it, I'm sure it can be done."

Minerva went back to her insufferable grin, here was her finest student, saying he could give a body to the spirit of a castle thousands of years old. And she'd be damned if she didn't believe he could do it. It was time to do what she and Fillius had been discussing for the past month, it was time to form the boy into a true sorcerer, like in the days of old. She nodded her approval.

Fillius just gave a deadly half-goblin grin, and Marchbanks was too overwhelmed to speak. Harry walked into the classroom that he and Flitwick often trained in, and made like he had started the last time he had met with the aged head of the Wizarding Examination Authority. He transfigured the entire floor of the room into chalk board, and began what would be easily his most complex conjuration to date.

The body he had in mind for the golem was one of delicate strength. It would stand slightly taller than Hagrid, but be a female form of understated curves. He had spent a bit of time looking at anatomy models since he got the idea, and once he got over the red-faced embarrassment of studying anatomical models of the female form in an academic context, he got a good idea of what he wanted. He could, and would, only do the very best work he was capable of doing for the Lady.

The skin of the golem was pure and unadulterated mithril, a material which he had found to be a kind of magically charged living mundane titanium. Inside that skin, he gave the golem a substance of liquid and living silver. It was the second strongest magically reactive material, and as an internal reservoir would give the golem an immense magical strength. It would also solve the need for joints and add flexibility and strength to the body.

The trouble of the conjuration would be ensuring that the whole golem would keep a solid and consistent form. Without magical direction, it would only be a heavy and disturbing water balloon. Much like the act that had earned Harry his transfiguration mastery, the minutia would have to be solved in the array he inscribed around the power circle. Each rune tied a different portion of the body form to the intention he had in mind, the difficulty of the conjuration was justified though by the massive pool of magic to draw from. It was a drop in the ocean of magic that the Lady commanded, but as a body it would give her more to work with, and would result in a physical form more powerful than any organic body by many orders of magnitude.

It was difficult for the fourteen year old to suppress, so his face colored as he crystallized his intention regarding the body. From the bottom up, the feet were perfectly and beautifully formed. The calves were a gentle curve up to the knees, and the thighs were thick and strong. The golem's pelvis was composed of a round and perfectly formed arse, and a groin that met an abdominal region in a nearly flat juncture. The Lady's avatar would have stomach muscles that were defined as if by an engineer with a laser guide, her bust modest and devoid of any awkward details. Her future body was without any awkward details. Her upper body and arms appeared to be muscled, but in proportion to the frame of the rest of the body. The head and face was entirely blank, but still had what appeared to be a feminine bone structure. Just above her right breast would be a Hogwarts crest composed of precious metals and stones.

The golem Harry planned was in essence, beautiful. It was just like Harry picture the love he felt from the castle, but in a corporeal form. It had an ethereal quality that was hard to put into words, but conversely not hard for him to put into a representation of intent surrounding a power circle.

Harry channeled an immense amount of magic into the circle. It had taken him some time, but he had finally grown to the point where he understood and appreciated his new and _massive _tie to magic. In this instance, the boy channeled magic to the very limit of his being into the circle. Permanently conjuring that amount of magically sensitive material placed a huge toll on even his abilities. Harry needed to get this right, and on the first try. This would put him near exhaustion, and he had a lot of spell work to do over the body once it was made real.

* * *

The Lady of the Castle was watching the work of one of her favored children with a keen eye. She had seen so many with so much promise come and go inside these walls. Some knew of her, some didn't, most carried a small piece of her out into the world with them. A representation of the time they had spent in her walls. She had an idea what went on beyond her wards, but she knew it wasn't her place to interfere. Hers was to make safe the halls, and watch over the children, her children.

This black haired and green eyed boy in the charms classroom was making her an excellent form. It would let her do what she had longed for the past several hundred years, run across her grounds and feel the soil her children used to plant living things run between her fingers. She longed to swim with her ancient tentacled friend in his lake, and to cuff her Peeves round the head for his antics. She smiled on Harry's work, and let her happiness glow around the boy as he worked.

* * *

There was a loud pop of displaced air, and before the four people in the room was a metal body of massive size, and great beauty. The mithril's surface was a constant bright silvery color, but as the light hit it sent of scintillating rainbow colors across the room. The adults gasped at what the boy had made, but the boy in question was grinning ear to ear. He hadn't been sure, but there she was before him, her form clothed in a light silver robe to give her some dignity.

Harry brandished his wand again, and spoke the words for spells of strengthening, self repair, and spell protection. The golem before him would never be touched by rain, sleet, snow, or spell fire while his work held. The Mithril and living silver drank in every ounce of power he poured forth into it, and with the strength and permanence of his casting, would continue to hold the his will for a long time to come. Harry had created a body that would outlast the British isles.

He had one last idea, but he was less sure of it than he had been of his ability to make what lay before him. Since last year and learning of the Fidelius charm that had protected his parents so poorly, Harry had been looking into it. He wanted to cast a fidelius over the body, and key it only to those who could be trusted with the Lady Hogwarts' secret. If the ministry knew of her in any depth the castle would be taken apart brick by brick by unspeakables. Ministries the world over would bid for pieces of her to study. Harry could not allow either of those things to come to pass. Harry formed his magic inside of himself to the shape it would take when he would cast the fidelius, and brought it outside his ruby and iron shields around his core. He pushed them towards the glow of the Lady's love, and did his best to send a sense of questioning.

Communication between Harry and the Lady was a little dicey. She had never failed to send him feelings or warnings as she desired, but Harry had a hard time sending information or feelings to her. Maybe it was how many years he had taken all of his feelings and information and hid them within himself. Long years of neglect left him focusing all he felt inside, and Harry had an inkling that was what was holding him at bay.

The Lady seemed to take hold of the magic he had tried to send her way, and she molded it. Harry couldn't describe what she had done to the intention, but it felt like she had improved his idea, made the constraints a little tighter, modifying the fidelius in the process.

With her improvements, Harry whispered _Fidelius_ over the body, anchoring the spell in the soul of the castle itself. Marchbanks looked on dumbly, as if she had now seen too much from the boy in front of her. Flitwick and Minerva both seemed to be basking in feelings of pride for Harry's work. The Fidelius was an ancient and beyond difficult charm. The spell, arithmetically, was one of the most complicated you could find outside ritual work. Their prized student had just cast one at a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, and placed his palm of the Hogwarts crest. This would be his final act for the golem, then he could give in to his exhaustion and grab a nap. The fidelius was the nail in the coffin of his energy. He would have registered as magically exhausted on nearly any medical scan, if they could have seen through his safeguards that is.

Harry opened himself up inside, dropping his shields temporarily, and just extending his awareness out. The Lady met him at a point just outside himself, and using Harry's body and soul like a ladder, tasked a small part of herself to climb down into the body he had made her.

As she slipped into the body, feeling limbs, fingers, and toes for the first time in her very long life, the face of the golem grew definition. A graceful thin brow sketched itself across her forehead, forming above perfectly spaced almond shaped eyes, her lids closed. A small nose with a gentle upturn formed over her mouth, which was small but excellently proportioned with a seemingly permanent serene smile.

Her eyes fluttered open after a moment, revealing orbs of a unique and beautiful green. A gift from her to this form's creator, that as long as her body lasted, so would a little reminder of him.

As she finished assuming her new body, Harry had collapsed in exhaustion over her. He was pale and shook slightly, looking like he was on the edge of unconsciousness. She slowly sat up, making sure to not jostle the teenager. The Lady gathered him in her arms (She had arms! It was amazing and so new!) and rose to her feet. She turned and looked with brand new eyes on the three adults in the room. Minerva she smiled at. The transfiguration professor had known a speck of what was coming, but still looked torn between awe and utter surprise. The Lady loved Minerva, the woman had seen so much and lost so much, but she stood here teaching the next generation and giving of herself freely to them. The Lady walked to her and placed a tender kiss on the woman's brow.

Griselda Marchbanks. The Lady remembered her. Nearly two hundred years distant, she had been a very serious and no-nonsense student. She had taken top honors in each year, and had passed over the head girl position in favor of deeper study. She was as though carved from granite, tough as the earth itself and just as unmovable. Two massive wizarding wars, and the woman was still here, still ensuring the children were up to snuff. The Lady favored the aged witch's brow with a kiss.

Fillius Flitwick held his own special place in the Lady's heart. He was torn between his father's world of mines and blood, and his mother's world which would reject him at every turn. He had found his magic hard to control, and so had come to her bosom in a time of great personal upheaval to learn of himself and of his power. He had grown into a passionate and beautiful person, and the Lady loved him. He thought of his charges much like she did, they were kindred spirits in a way. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

The Lady left the stunned group behind her as she walked through herself (what an experience!) and brought the small wizard in her arms to his bed. He had earned his rest.

* * *

Harry woke late the next morning to hear an immediate pop out and back into the room. Dobby it seemed had been watching for him to wake up, and brought a light breakfast for Harry to his room. He stood next to the steaming tea, toast, and bacon, beaming at the young wizard in bed next to him.

Harry took much longer than usual to get all the way to consciousness. It was like this when he exhausted himself, getting back to the waking world was like running through thigh deep mud.

Harry gave his deepest thanks to his over-excited friend, and set in on breakfast. Harry was thankful he wasn't required to attend classes, after his exertions the previous day he was going to be useless for a while. He loved creating, like he had, it was made even sweeter for him that his work helped the Lady like it had, but getting himself magically exhausted sucked.

He had found that if he did it he could expand his core by something like ten percent, but every time he was exhausted it took him at least a day to get his feet back under him. Harry had things to do. Spending all day in bed was good for his reading and getting in nap time, but that was about it.

All round Harry's barrier layers Harry could feel the Lady of the Castle humming gently in excitement. She sent Harry a flash of what the body was up to, and Harry learned that the Lady had a very soft spot in her heart for herbology and gardening. Her body was currently in greenhouse seven replanting and caring for some of the scarier plant . Professor Sprout could often be heard complaining in a strained whisper about how few of her NEWT students could handle what had to be the single most deadly concentration of flora in the entire United Kingdom.

Harry smiled. He had done well.

* * *

The final task was at the end of June, mere days before the year let out. Harry had some time. Thankfully that was time he had a hundred dozen uses for.

Harry started the brewing of the tanning potion for his bracer. It would take him a full lunar cycle, and Harry had been lucky to be able to start it on the new moon of March 1st. Thankfully almost the entire process was simmering, Harry only needed a twelve hour time segment on the first day to get all of the complicated brewing out of the way. With a strong admonition to Freyr to ensure he stayed away from the gently boiling cauldron, Harry was set.

Harry had the Tebo leather set up and ready for tanning, and after an incredibly foolhardy mission out into the forbidden forest, Harry had a significant mass of acromantula silk. He had found a nice book, oddly enough not in the restricted section, on defensive charms that could be laid into the stuff, so Harry had the enchanted loom working full bore on the under layer of his bracer.

Sirius was becoming pretty insistent that they meet, his mail was filling with larger letters and exclamation points. His receiving his second mastery (the day after his work, shortly after he regained consciousness) had also given him some time off from his lessons with Minerva and Fillius, though they seemed to be scheming, so Harry decided to go and meet the old dog.

Padfoot had said he wasn't too far away, but didn't want to give his exact position, which Harry could respect. The odds of his mail being intercepted was low, Hedwig was smart to the point of being scary, any wizard who could take mail from her without her permission had really almost earned it. Sirius instead made a playing card a portkey, and let Harry know it was activated by the usual phrase. Harry went for a walk outside the Lady's wards, and activated it.

Portkeys were a terrible way to travel, he thought, as he picked himself up off the ground. When he had some time in the next few days, he resolved to look into the transport magic involved. There was no way on Ymir's body and bones that there wasn't a better way.

Harry landed in a clearing on the edge of a small village, and after he dusted himself off again he was assaulted and near squeezed to death by none other than England's most wanted.

"Prongslet! You have no idea how I've missed you! Bucky and I have been counting the days!"

"Padfoot! You brought a hippogriff into a mundane village?" Harry smiled broadly, "You can't be serious!"

Padfoot smiled and with a growl, "That's my joke, pup! But I like you so you get the first one free."

The two slapped backs and walked into the village together, the criminal leading the pair to a cafe near the center of the town. After Padfoot ordered the pair breakfast, they moved on to more (A/N: apologies) serious topics.

"Pup, I'm worried about you. I heard about the first and second tasks. If the dragon thing wasn't enough, you go and pull an animation charm so advanced that I'm not sure good ole' Merlin could replicate it. If I weren't talking to you the whole time I'd swear you were possessed by something. No offense pup, but you definitely did not have that skill when you and that lady friend of yours took my Bacon off the fire last year. I trust ya, but I gotta ask, what the hell?"

Harry took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. This one was gonna take a while. Off hand, he conjured a scrap of parchment and an inked quill. He needed Luna to know he wasn't making lunch. His meeting with Stubby Boardman was gonna take a while.

Harry started with what he had said to the Dursleys, and gave Sirius a good laugh with the threats of violence from him. That brought him to his trip to Diagonal, and the blood red leather bound volume that had changed his life so. From there the explanation covered more ground and simplified. Being in touch with magic had changed everything. Transfiguration was a mental exercise. Charms were all based in adding and subtracting intent and will from an object. Feeling his magic, knowing his core, had made everything an act of willpower. Harry had once been bit by a basilisk and fought off several hundred immortal beings of hate and sorrow. Willpower was something he was familiar with. Padfoot gaped at him, so Harry went for the finishing move, and pulled out his twin certifications as a master of both transfiguration and charms. He idly mentioned tea with his friend Griselda Marchbanks and munched on a piece of toast as his esteemed dogfather collected himself. Harry swore he heard the man whisper 'sorcerer'.

The old dog's fears thus allayed, and a small red volume passed between hands, they moved into what Harry considered the more significant conversation.

"Sirius, I have a seri-," _damn it,_ Harry thought, "important question. Why didn't you or anyone else in all of magical Britain tell me that I'm the last Potter, and head of the ancient and noble house of Potter? Why in the nine hells didn't Dumbledore tell me when I was eleven like he was supposed to? What the hell am I supported used to do now that I am head of my own house? I've been studying. I know my rights, and the rights of my mates, and any protectorates of my house. I also know I can bring up the papers on charges of defaming me at my leisure. I haven't been doing anything because I'm afraid of what Dumbles is going to do when he finds out I am a lord and emancipated, but I need some advice. I can't trust anyone else but the goblins with this, and they are honor bound to not be involved in human politics," _as much as Gemshaper and Ragnok wanted to, _Harry added under his breath.

Padfoot went from smiling at Harry's near miss at his favorite joke in the world, to concern, anger, curiosity, back to concern. Harry wondered for a moment if it was just him or if he was provoking this kind of reaction more and more lately. Sirius snapped back into the conversation.

"That old goat-fucking beard-encrusted son-of-a-god-damned-banshee hag-molesting piece-of-beetle-filled-vipertooth-shite, I'm gonna take one of those frilly enchanted purple robes of his and shove it so far up his-"

"Woah! Padfoot! Calm the hell down!"

With a deceptively idle flick of his wrist, Harry shot a small notice-me-not ward around their table, folks around then had begun starting at Sirius' comments.

"Now I've been a little angry at him myself, I figured that if he couldn't wrangle you a trial, the least he could do was tell me who I am, but I haven't heard someone curse that profoundly since Fred and George explained to Ron they lied when they said that consumption of enchanted food was an elective course."

Sirius started cursing more under his breath, and Harry gave him a minute. He'd been in jail twelve years, the old dog would continue to have the benefit of the doubt given to him until Harry was convinced he went marauder and was taking advantage of it. After a few minutes of quiet toast munching, Sirius spoke up again.

"Harry, it's tough on me, but I forget you weren't raised magical. Children are beyond precious to us. Something about being magic depresses our ability to reproduce. It's not taught at Hogwarts because it's one of this base facts of life that it's assumed the parents tell their kids, and they're afraid if you tell the muggleborn straight off they'll just leave. The muggle-born are really kinda left behind on that one. In any case, it is the highest of laws that any scion of a noble house be taught immediately and in your situation by the best tutors regardless of politics about their heritage. I haven't asked because, honestly, it was unthinkable that you didn't know," he put a hand on Harry's across the table, "Pup, Lucy Malfoy himself would have been unbiased and taught you personally if he knew what you just told me. Dumbledore would be run out of town on a rail if the public knew what you had just asked me. I'm gonna need a moment here."

The two didn't say another word, Sirius slapped way too many bills on the table, and began leading Harry to a pub down the cobblestone village road from their café. Harry absent mindedly added about fifteen years to his face and body, and they entered the pub, quickly finding seats at the bar. Sirius but two hundred pounds on the bar and asked for the oldest whiskey they stocked. The bald and barely toothed (he reminded Harry of Tom from the Leaky Cauldron) barkeep put a bottle between this year's highest paying customers and stalked away, sensing a need for privacy. Harry shot off another notice-me-not, and after Sirius shot off three other things, the conversation resumed.

"Harry, in our world, the magical world, regardless of how you feel about being a pureblood or whatever, a most noble and ancient house means something. When our society began, a wizard named Merlin called together all of the most significant magical clans of the age, and we all signed a covenant binding our lives and our magic to the advancement and well-being of our people. The wizengamot was formed, it was supposed to be a group of the clan leaders and all of the greatest living heroes, that's why order or merlin first class holders get a vote. The Potters were one of those clans, so were folks like the Longbottoms and Bones'. You being head of the house means that you represent that tradition and that responsibility. It's your duty to promote the welfare of all the people of old Albion as best you see it. That's why the wizengamot is so contentious even during peacetime. All of the seats on the wizengamot, even the ones added since Merlin's time, are magically compelled to do the very best as they see it for our people. That is what it means to be head of your house. Now the stuffy old types have all of these forms of address and expressions of respect that they use for each other, but in the end what it means is duty to your people."

Harry picked up the glass Sirius had set in front of him, and sipped a small amount of it. He wasn't ready for heavy drinking and he knew it, but the conversation required something to take the edge off.

"Sirius... I... I don't want this. I want out," Harry sighed. He wanted more edge taken off, he didn't know how his dogfather would react to this.

"You know about how my time in the wizarding world has been spent. Voldemort and a Cerberus first year, an acromantula nest and a basilisk second, well, you and a herd of dementors third. Now this competition? I may gotten a lot better with magic, I may have masteries now I guess, but I've been here for four years and I've been in more danger than a decade of the Dursleys ever put me through. Being hit with the odd frying pan and starved is better than this. It's nice to have a duty, to know what my family name means, but I won't live to see sixteen at this rate."

His godfather finished the tumbler in front of him.

"I want to disagree. I want to tell you no. The magical world is so excellent, there is so much wonder, and you haven't seen any of it! But how can I? You're not wrong about what happened to you. I'm a wanted criminal."

The two shared a moment over their glasses. They each had a lot to think about. Padfoot broke the silence first.

"Okay then pup. Here is the plan. End of this year, you walk off of the platform and straight to the leaky cauldron. Fast as you can, floo from the Cauldron to that Potter property in Oz. Your dad and I went there summer after sixth. You, me, Moony, and that Lovegood lass," Harry colored, "we can all start over there. Make a new place for the Potters, Blacks, and Lovegoods. They don't know about any of this Voldemort crap out there."

"Just a year ago I would have wanted to stay. I had friends and stuff. But now? Let's do it. I'm not big on Moony, but I trust you. The Lovegoods aren't real big on Britain in general either, from what Luna says. This... maybe this will work?"

It was clear that was more a question than a resolution. Despite Harry being only fourteen, Sirius decided to play the godfather and poured him a second tumbler of the whiskey. The two made further plans, drank a little, and talked until the light left the sky and Harry needed to get back to Hogwarts. For the first time in a long time, Harry actually had a long term to look forward to.


	18. Chapter 17: Of Sorcelations and Veela

Chapter 17

Harry had a two week break from his regular lessons with Minerva and Fillius, and he spent his time well. He perused a lot of restricted section spell books. His basic research on the unforgivables shed a lot of light on the origins of the curses and, much to Harry's amusement, revealed that a ridiculous percentage of the darker spells actually had their basis in cooking and medicine. Spells for exsanguination, beheading, and the killing curse all were originally made for butchers and chefs. Blood switching saw use in medicine, switching small amounts for potions could help with some of the most dire injuries. It was intriguing. He also got down to learning some of the most basic runes and their applications. He cursed himself again for being lazy third year. If he hadn't followed Ron into divination, he might have actually learned something.

His favorite Scot and Half-goblin hadn't been wasting their time either. They were each aware that Harry didn't use a wand, his having been lax after tiring days of training eventually revealing it to them. They had been talking, and now that Harry had dual masteries they knew there was really only one place left for him.

Harry appeared for his next lesson, Minerva's was first, and got himself a bit of a surprise. Sitting in the middle of the room they experimented and trained in were three high back leather chairs a tea service busily steaming away. Harry entered and sat.

"Harry, if we're honest with you, and us," Flitwick shot McGonagall a glance and continued, "we don't have anything really left to teach you. We barely have to tell you an incantation, and you're able to do a spell. Your work with your little friend there," A long pointed finger indicated the furry snoring lump being idly stroked in Harry's lap, "and on the Lady have been incredible. And not just because she has cleaned up greenhouse seven for the first time in living memory, and managed to actually get Hagrid to wash his beard and hair."

The lady had taken to doing a large number of extremely odd jobs. Harry was truly astounded by how many people couldn't keep her secret. Another reason for him to skip town and country. The castle gave him a sad but warm note at the thought.

McGonagall picked up the narrative, "From how you now wield magic, we want to talk to you and try to make you into a Sorcerer."

Harry could feel the capital S on the word, but was confused by it.

"Am I not one already? I mean I thought that's what you all were teaching me?"

Flitwick received a look from Minerva. He started, then said, "There are some subtle things in the language here that you wouldn't understand because you were not raised a magical. We are all wizards and witches. We control our power through rigorous study of cause and effect relationships. Our knowledge of magic and our power it technical. It means something much different to be a sorcerer. Sorcery requires significantly more power and focus. Sorcerers channel and control magic through their personality and force of will. Their magic is different than the magic of a wizard, and is often near impossible for a wizard to counter, deconstruct, or unravel. It is a powerful application of accidental or wild magic."

Harry felt doubled teamed as Minerva started in, "We've been watching you in our extra training. In the heat of the moment, you don't even use an incantation. When you're excited about a transfiguration with me, or sometimes in your mock duels with Fillius, magic does your will instead of you directing it with a word or a wand. That is being a sorcerer. We think we know how to get you the rest of the way. You probably won't like it though."

If she said he wouldn't like it, Harry knew he _really_ wouldn't like it. From beneath his chair, Harry's favorite half-goblin removed a box, and opened it to reveal a set of what looked like golden manacles. To Harry's eye, the pair of wrist bindings looked evil, their magic felt dull, and like a black hole might.

"As far as we can tell, the one thing separating you from this power, from true sorcery is your focus," Minerva grinned and Flitwick gave a terrifying goblin half smile, Harry had the decency to look slightly ashamed, "Your attention wanders a lot. The reason that you have been so successful so far is your excess power. Without all of the extra power you put into your spell work, they would fizzle out to nothing. These," Minerva pointed to the manacles in Flitwick's hand, "will dampen you magic. Fillius has purchased them from a cousin in the rock-home. They are adjustable, so you can turn them off for normal work around Hogwarts, and you can also turn them up when you bring your focus to a level where you can cast spells around the dampening."

The tiny professor carried on, "These small knobs here regulate how much magic they will absorb, you simply move them around the outside of the bracelet to the desired strength. All this will be doing is teaching you how to do more with less, and it is only step one. We've seen you as you've been learning and training outside our lessons, and when you were given lab space to begin with the Headmaster placed a small number of monitoring charms in your lab space."

Harry gulped at that. If the bearded one knew what he knew, he could be in trouble. Harry telling Sirius to not trust the old man alone would probably see him in hot water. After his conversation with Padfoot, Harry had been even more certain that the old man did not have his best interests in heart. As if a decade of unrelieved abuse without being checked on wasn't enough proof.

Fillius picked up on Harry's sudden nervousness, and wrongly attributing its source to a more personal or intimate one, attempted to mollify the boy, "Nothing that watched you or listened in to you, Minnie... er... Minerva and I made sure of that."

"Fillius! Well we know him well enough now I suppose. My friends call me Minnie, Harry, you may if you would like," She favored Harry with a smile, "But don't think this will go on unremarked you half-goblin nuisance!"

Flitwick looked abashed, but continued their original conversation, "The charms monitored spell use and power output, as well as your health. Basically, we know you compulsively practice everything you read about. Step two to your transition is to never again use an incantation. If you are around others, fudge the incantation, or make one up. What you need to eliminate your need for any form of incantation, and learn greater focus. What do you say?"

Harry took the cuffs from Fillius' hands with no small amount of hesitation. He gave his head a small shake, as if making up his mind or clearing it, and snapped the pair over each of his wrists. He moved the small knobs to their roughly halfway mark, and closed his eyes.

Harry didn't say anything, and the two professors seemed to get that this was his answer. The boy-who-lived raised a hand slightly, and with a scrunching of his face, a patchy but corporeal prongs stepped in front of him.

He looked at the bright stag in front of him. He narrowed his eyes, and the energy that made up the animal solidified. The animal gave Harry what seemed to be a look of thanks, and gave a short prance about the room before disappearing. Harry made eye contact with his two professors (_er... advisors... friends? _Harry thought, _the line wasn't as clear anymore_) and gave a short nod.

"I... I think I can do this."

* * *

The rest of March and April proceeded apace. Harry got his tanning potion finished on the correct lunar schedule, and embedded his materials in the now magically impregnated leather. The bracer worked as a wand holder, though more often than not it held a blank holly wand shell in it. Harry had made a few for himself so he could always have one in an extra pocket. He was at the point where he didn't really keep track of his first wand anymore.

To him it represented himself without power, and without focus. It represented the time in his life when his greatest ambition was to make it to the next semester at Hogwarts, and hopefully to survive. Aside from all of that, on a mental level he had set the wand aside when he took up wild magic, sorcerer's magic. It was entirely due to a mental block he knew, but he couldn't channel a spark through it anymore.

Harry's final making of the bracer, which he had spent so much time on up to this point, could not have come a worse time for him personally. Its entire purpose was to ease the passage of his magic outside his boy. The blood binding in the tanning potions ensured that. His training was bent around the opposite purpose now.

Harry wore the manacles Flitwick had bought for him constantly. His near religious practice during class hours and when he wasn't with Luna, Nev, and occasionally the Twins had even got him to the point where he had burned out the pair.

Luckily Harry had studied the enchantments on the cuffs (despite how they simply felt wretched in his hands) and was able to duplicate and strengthen them. By mid-april Harry had run through two pairs of his home made dampers and was on a set he had constructed of conjured gold roughly double the size of the ones his half-goblin friend had made for him. The size he had be gifted simply couldn't hold the amount of rune encrusted work necessary to keep his power down.

The end result of all of the work was not only an increase in Harry's skill at practical enchantment, by that same mid-April time frame his hundreds of hours of practice (often waaaay later into the night than he should have been, he looked like his girlfriend in the morning more often than not by now) had developed a laser-like focus in him. He could twist, turn, and manipulate the trickle of power that his cuffs let through into any spell he needed, and the lack of power forced him to be very creative with uses.

All in all it was excellent training, but its application to Harry's next spot of trouble wasn't what he thought it would be.

* * *

Dumbledore smiled a wide and many toothed smile at the people in his office before him.

_This!_ he thought with relish, _Is Finally Something Going My Way!_

The aged wizard may have been old and incredibly stubborn, but if there was one thing he knew it was what happened in his school. The 'chosen' one's entrance into the school this semester had been remarkable.

First his scans of the boy, and those of his favored St. Mungo healer slid right off of young Harry after that little dust-up during the World Cup. Dumbledore approved of the boy playing the hero, but he needed his sacrifice in good health, and too much accidental magic like that could run him into the dust before Dumbledore's plans could reach their conclusions. His inability to scan Harry was troublesome though. More than troublesome.

He had contingencies, but it simply wouldn't do to have his main plans run off of their rails.

Finally the boy reaches school, only to _appear_ the same as he was before. Harry's marks had not changed much, a slight improvement maybe, but it was what the portraits in the library and what Severus was saying that were more telling.

The denizens of the shelves (ostensibly there to guide young minds to the correct knowledge) were reporting Harry there more than ever before, and on top of that he was more often than not in the company of Neville and the Lovegood heiress. These were troubling developments. Dumbledore needed Harry with the Weasley boy, Ron had kept Harry lazy for years, compounding the treatment Harry was to have received at his home.

Severus had said that the Boy now was possessed of an inhuman patience. Severus' own best efforts and the efforts of the, Albus shuddered, Malfoy scion had all gone to naught. Harry was maintaining his temper somehow, weathering these assaults like a proverbial rock.

Dumbledore needed the boy slightly harried, and angry at the pureblood bigots. He truly hated allowing the Malfoy boy free reign, under Dumbledore's tutelage the school had not been this bad in decades, but he needed his sacrifice to hate the enemy.

Of course as the year wore on Fillius gave the boy access to an old enchanting lab, and Minerva takes him on for extra tuition. They both privately insisted the boy had some reservoir of untapped potential, Albus thought not given all he had done to him, but all the same he had given his blessing. To not have done so would have raised suspicion among the two minds most closely guarded outside his own and Severus'.

It pained him to do these things, Dumbledore thought, it pained him so to have to arrange for the putting down of a brilliant young mind. But what was one life against Britain? What was one life against the world?

Then Harry gets entered into the competition. Dumbledore expected it. If his clearly imperiused friend hadn't put Harry's name into the goblet, Albus was likely to have done so himself. What could focus and trouble the boy more than another life and death adventure? Of course the boy had to have that old lion Minerva on his side. If she wasn't so protective of her cubs all the time, Albus might have suspected something about that.

The disaster of the first task meant he had to do a lot of damage control, the public didn't like the image of their savior roasted. The foolishness of the second meant the public saw even more incredible magic by his sacrifice. That was the true disaster.

Dumbledore had suspected some small increased ability, one-on-one attention from the two finest minds (save his own) in all of the UK meant there could be nothing less. What Harry had shown during his two public trials was nothing short of amazing. He could never admit it out loud, but internally Albus wondered if even he could match what Harry had done.

The sacrifice for the greater good couldn't be talented! How could Harry die to his foe (and in doing so kill his foe) if he could defend himself? It was far too early for Dumbledore's personal interference, that was two years off at the least. The boy was too strong though, and without Albus sneaking his way into the boy's room and attempt yet another binding on him, what was he to do?

He shook his head and ran a few fingers through his great beard. His solution was the platinum-blonde in front of him. This would tie the boy down. Bring him to heel a bit more, bring him back into Albus' fold. This was the reason for the grin that lit the elderly man's face.

The girl, Delacour was the name, was a part veela (quarter veela, his mind reported absently) and she was saying she had a life-debt to his boy. He had never looked into the intricacies of the cross-over between life-debts and veela bonding magic. She and her father were contending that the bond already existed, and nothing less than the consummation of the bond would allow her to continue living and keep her magic.

Albus wasn't sure if she was technically right, Harry's golems were the only thing in danger, but regardless of the truth of the matter he needed a sacrifice tied down and under control. This was a matter that necessitated his involvement, so it could break through his normal embargo on contact with Harry. A few full bore twinkles, an assignment of married student's quarters, and the abject disasters of the last few months could be back on course. Albus had never been one for the affections of the finer sex, but if the veela before him lived up to her people's carnal reputation the boy would actually enjoy this part of the path to his eventual death.

* * *

Harry had been summoned to the headmaster's office. He checked his conscience, and finding it no more loud than usual (his assistance to Fred and George notwithstanding) he asked the guardian to Dumble's office to move, and made his way upstairs.

Before his knuckle could impact on the door at the apex of the spiraling stairs, the unmistakable voice of the elderly headmaster sounded out from inside the office.

"Enter, Mr. Potter."

Harry's face flashed into an annoyed cast, then was quickly schooled back to normal. It was... childish, he decided, for the headmaster to do that to anyone entering his office. Harry had only been subjected to it a few times, mostly as his yearly death games concluded, but with the amount of personal growth he had undergone over the previous months, he understood now the extent to which it was a move designed to simply show off.

Harry opened the thick wooden door and entered to find the French tart (God damn it, it was so tempting, but no, that was rude. Fleur, her name was Fleur) sitting next to a man that could only be her father. Across the desk was the man Harry least wanted to see. Harry had no idea what was going on, but he knew it was going to be bad. The sixth sense he had for life threatening situations was pinging like it was going out of style. Harry knew it was going to be a very, very long day.

"You called for me, sir?"

Dumbledore released the first of what would end up being far fewer twinkles than he had hoped for, "Harry, you know your fellow champion, Ms. Delacour, beside her is her father, Alain Delacour, the head of the French department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Pleasantries were exchanged, with significant tension between Harry and the department head. Fleur couldn't meet his eyes, and Harry's danger sense was beginning to stop pinging and was simply a constant whine at the back of his head.

"Harry, how familiar are you with life debts?"

Harry's mind raced, thankfully his reading into magical binding following the goblet of fire incident had been thorough, "I'm very familiar sir, but I don't quite see why this is important."

"In a moment, dear boy," the afternoon's second and final twinkle was unleashed at full force, "how familiar are you with Veela, and their interaction with the aforementioned life debts?"

Harry's mind raced again. He despised being controlled. He had looked up the veela after he had access to the Hogwarts library, Harry knew that he needed whatever info he could get on veela after the World Cup. If they could undermine his barriers he needed to know, and he performed all the research himself as Hermione had walked off in a huff when she found the topic of his research. The wizarding sources of info on them had been surprisingly... pornographic in their portrayal of veela heritage.

Harry buzzed through all he knew and halfway through his mind reached a conclusion and stopped dead. Veela life bonds, veela mating bonds, just veela bonds. Harry knew this was going to be bad. He went to Luna in his mind, cursing that something like this could happen both to him and her. The Lady of the castle sent him a bracing feeling.

"Veela who owe life debts often bond, either unintentionally or just against their will, with the person they owe the debt to. Not fulfilling this bond results in their veela heritage removing their magic, often resulting in turn in the," Harry gulped, "... death of the woman involved."

Fleur and her father wore expressions of supreme surprise, Harry didn't notice. Harry did see surprise etched in every line and crease in the face of his headmaster. This gave Harry another bad feeling, it seemed as if he wasn't supposed to know these things.

"A... erm... thorough treatment of the subject, if lacking in details, dear boy. It seems as if your actions during the second task have brought a life debt between yourself and Ms. Delacour here. You can see what the implications of this are."

Harry put his head in his hands. It had to be something, things had been going too well this year. Of course he had to go and get married, for all intents and purposes, to some French girl he couldn't stand.

Alain spoke up, "Monsieur Potter, there can be no mistake you must complete the bond with my daughter. I know of you, and I know of your honor. I despise the suddenness of this, but you must consummate the bond with Fleur. Appoline, that is Fleur's mother, and I have waited these many days to confirm that the bond is true. My Appoline assures me that the veela in my daughter demands this."

Harry could not separate his head from his hands. He had a girlfriend. He had a chance to be happy. He had a plan. Damn this.

Albus continued, "The life debt, as I understand it, combines with the veela heritage of the charming lass here to create a magical bond between you. This cannot be denied."

His voice pierced the barrier of his hands, and as he spoke he slowly raised his eyes to the only other teenager in the room, "Fleur. Fleur. What do you have to say about this?"

Harry could see the poorly suppressed excitement in her. She wanted this, and wanted it badly, but her words were what tipped Harry off that something was seriously amiss.

"I do not want zis, obviously," hesitation, "But my magic and the veela are what zey are. Zis must 'appen. Eet is so unexpected!"

It was not beyond him to remember the look of hunger in her eyes at the end of the second task, nor was it beyond him to recognize now the significance to furtive whispers and tittering of the Beauxbatons contingent. The rest of this interaction he could buy, it was in character for Dumbles and Alain seemed genuine in his concerned father approach, but she wasn't on the level.

Harry's fresh angst moved just a smidge down the spectrum towards anger. Suspicion continued running through him. If there was a connection, if there was a sort of magical obligation, then there had to be a tie between them, right?

What else could cause such a reaction if not a magical compulsion, a magical binding or obligation to do this, to 'consummate' as Fleur's dad put it. Harry shuddered a bit. He was fourteen. If he had to be honest to himself, girls had only recently become not just another guy. Luna was the reason that changed for him, and they had been close on the train before that became a useful distinction for him. He was fourteen, he wasn't ready to consummate anything.

No one said another word after Fleur's statement, they all seemed to be waiting on Harry. He had his next move ready though. He crossed his hands, and with a curious twisting gesture, released the masking wrist cuffs. As they lost contact with his skin there was an immense magical pressure on the room for a moment. Fleur's eyes almost bugged out with what Harry could only qualify as desire. He deftly caught the as they fell from his forearms, and stored them into a pocket he had expanded on the inside of his robes (by Odin he loved the expansion charms channeled by pentacles). Alain saw the cuffs, and a visible flicker of recognition and confusion crossed his face.

"Fleur, give me your hand."

Again, Harry thought, she hid her triumph poorly. She thought she was going to win here, Harry didn't really need much more proof that this was a scam on her part, but he did wonder how this Appoline character was dragged into this, he didn't want to generalize about veela but he didn't exactly have a good sample now did he. She placed her hand in his, false nervousness written plain all over her face.

Harry had reached the point where he didn't need to close his eyes anymore, he just shot a small petrification through to her arm so she couldn't let go if she began to sense what he was doing, and he extended a tendril of magic through their connected hands and down into her core.

It was less than a tenth, less than a fiftieth or even a hundredth the size of his, but he had no problem identifying it. It was silver and blue, it had the same air, the same taste, as her aura did when it surrounded his barriers. It was like a breeze, light, fresh, airy, but it held a very strong note of fire that pulsed in time with her heart beat. It was as if it could burn up in a moment, becoming an all-consuming blaze.

This actually gave him a bit of insight into her. Unsurprisingly, he guessed, given how clear and deep a look into her very soul he now had. These actions weren't necessarily her. She was the air, the Veela in her was the fire. She was honest, she felt lonely. The veela in her was the part that screamed for a connection to him.

Harry didn't approve of her, he'd be damned if he liked her, but with this look he no longer even felt the childish desire to destroy or hurt her. After what felt like hours of feeling her from the inside out, learning about her from her very core, Harry retreated to the connection of their hands between them. He felt around, his training giving him more than a bit of the laser focus Minnie and Fillius had spoken of before.

There was no connection between them. Not a thread, not a fibre, not a hint or a shadow of a life debt or an obligation. Harry knew that was how it would be. As he had extended the tendril of his magic into her, a light shined where their hands met. It was the golden light flecked with green that he had come to associate with his magical presence, but as it appeared as a complete surprise to the three others in the room. Their expressions of surprise were all near mirror images of one another, though Fleur's soon change as she closed her eyes and felt the presence of Harry within her.

When Harry had seen all he needed to see, he released the veela witch from the minor petrifaction, giving her hand a small squeeze of support before turning in his chair to face Alain.

"Mr. Delacour, sir, what do _you_ know about life debts?"

Dumbles gave a grumble of discontent at being tacitly cut out of the conversation, but the head of the French DMLE gave Harry a queer look before responding, "I worked up through the Aurors, monsieur Potter. I am familiar with the concept, but in our line of work it was our job to save lives so it was impossible for any of my fellows and I to incur them."

"Alain, I have done some extensive research on bindings, debts, and magical obligations following my unconsenting entrance into this blasted tournament. A life debt can only form if I put myself in great personal danger or expended significant personal resource to the same effect. This is the only way. I remember seeing you at the second task, if you will recall, not only did I never enter the water, even the constructs I sent in to the water to were made of the densest stone. Not even they were in danger."

The eldest Delacour present seemed to chew these words over. Fleur clutched her hand that Harry had squeezed like a lifeline, or more accurately Harry supposed, her veela did so. Albus, as Harry figured should have been proper if this meeting weren't some strange form of manipulation, was relegated to the back of any and all conversation or thought.

"Alain, please, take my hand along with your daughter, I will show you."

Fleur was beyond quick to snatch Harry's hand, Alain much slower.

"If you have any defenses around your mind, please trust me and relax them for a moment. I'll show you what I mean."

Harry laughed internally for a moment. Alain really hadn't stopped giving him a strange look since the moment they had met. Truth be told, Harry couldn't blame him. Harry wouldn't let a guy like him date any daughter of his, much less do any of that whole 'consummation' jazz.

Harry sent his magic through his hand to the older man, and encountered a barrier. To Harry's gaze it was purple to his own blood red, but it seemed to work for the man. Harry extended a very narrow tendril and gave a very light rap on the man's shield. He took a step back in surprise.

"Please sir. I'm not going to seek any information about you, I won't enter your mind or look into you. I need you to let down your barrier for a moment so I can lead you to the connection between your daughter and I. I would like you to feel it first hand, sir."

The tall and broad shouldered Frenchman seemed to nod his head as if affirming to himself that Harry Potter wasn't likely to harm him, and the barrier slowly dropped as he closed his eye to see inside himself. Harry felt a piece of the man's magic clasp firmly onto his own, and he drew Alain's awareness down through himself and into the area where his magic met that of Fleur.

Dumbledore was making increasingly grumpy sounds from where he sat, as harry spoke again to the French contingent in the room.

"Sir, do you sense anything here? This, right here is where our magic meets," Alain nodded, "Your daughter's magic feels of air, and the veela in her tempers that air with the feeling of fire, of passion. My own magic is raw, and it focuses mostly on transformation. It is magic of change. Can you feel it sir?"

The man's response was a tight nod. He hadn't gotten to be head of the French DMLE by the graces of his charms and nepotism, though as things often were these days, they had certainly helped. He thought he got where the young man before him was going with this.

"I'll draw my own magic away from hers, and tell me what you see between us."

Harry did so, and a solid five minutes of incredibly awkward silence permeated the room. Albus shifted in an uncomfortable manner throughout the time, he wasn't used to not being a part of the center of the attention for any given meeting. The current developments didn't sit well with him, and for more reasons than his lack of inclusion in the proceedings.

Alain's voice broke the quiet, but only barely. He whispered out from beneath closed eyelids, "Nothing. There is nothing there. You cannot be bound. To think of what we almost did."

Harry guided Alain's awareness back to his own body, and relinquished both hands. Fleurs eyes filled up with tears at the no longer awkward silence following her Father's words.

Harry stood.

"My purpose here is done. There is no bond, there cannot be one. That is not all though. Alain, please speak to your wife. Fleur's veela controls her, she must learn balance if she is to live a full life. I don't know veela, but I know magic. There must be balance, Mr. Delacour."

Harry grasped Fleur's hands from where they covered her face as she sobbed silently. Her plan was no more. Harry, a being of such power that her veela calls out to him as the wolf calls out to the moon, was lost to her. She was without hope.

In a move that surprised everyone in the room again, Harry drew the young witch to her feet, and wrapped her in a hug.

"You can find balance, you abuse your veela as it does you. Take care. Not everyone is as kind as I am about being entrapped," Harry whispered into her ear.


	19. Chapter 18: The End

Chapter 18

Harry left the office of the headmaster with a very specific destination in mind. That he didn't actually know where the destination was at the moment meant little to him.

His goal was the hand and possibly lips of the girl that had come to mean the world to him in these last few months. He had come a hairs breadth from having to get married to a domineering French woman, and aside from the fact that on their honor as Englishmen none of his friends could possibly forgive him for doing so, Harry needed to share what happened with Luna.

It took a minute long consultation with the lady (Harry rarely used the marauder's map anymore, and was considering giving it back to them twins), but Harry tracked his little moon down to a corner of the Ravenclaw common room. Harry moved quickly up to the tower and solved the riddle with nary a thought (I can run but not walk, and wherever I go thought follows close behind. What am I? A nose. Harry almost guaranteed that Rowena cared more about security than this).

He threw himself down into a chair next to hers, his presence going largely unremarked. Luna was reading a back issue of the Quibbler as she was currently between classes.

"Luna, we need to talk, I... well what just happ-"

"Oh harry. You know the Lady talks to me. That and the amount of wrackspurts you're covered in could only come from Dumbledore and," Luna's face scrunched in anger," that French tart

On the inside Harry added another tally to his scoreboard. Luna stood and put her Quibbler on her chair, plopping herself down into Harry's lap.

"She tried to get herself married to me," Harry started, "She tried to get me bonded to her. Her dad was there too, he didn't seem to know the difference. Dumbledore was trying to get it to happen. I just… It just feels like so much else in my life. They were trying to take choices from me. Can't I be just a teenager?"

Harry tightened his hold on the small blonde in his arms. The connection between the two seemed to make him rest a little easier and removed some of the tension from his shoulders.

"You know we don't have to be here much longer," Luna planted a small kiss on Harry's head and continued, "the humdingers have been telling me about how you want to leave, both Hogwarts and Britain at large. I know it won't take much to convince daddy to leave. We haven't had much more luck here in the UK then you have. Don't let it get to you Harry. You have your last task, then we'll be free."

Her eyes lost their focus on him and she tilted her head to the side. After a moment of silence, she blinked and refocused on the boy whose lap she occupied.

"It won't be easy, Harry. It will be very hard. They say that there will be pain, but it will end and you'll remain. It will be okay, they say."

Harry had seen his Little Moon act like this before. Harry suspected she had some seer blood in her ancestry. Some of her creatures he believed in, but he thought the 'blibbering humdingers' she spoke to so often were visions that she had rationalized s coming from one of the magi-cryptozoological theories of her family. He loved that it would end okay, but was incredibly uncomfortable with what would inevitably be pain and fire in his near future. His shoulders tightened again to their previous level.

Luna felt it as Harry ratcheted to the level of worry and tension he had been at before she took her current seat. The humdingers were impassionate, they whispered of the good and the bad with equal impact. Luna had found that it paid to act on their advice, but knew that hearing the about the bad beforehand could make drag it out and make it worse, just like knowing about the good could sometimes water it down when it happened.

The solution was to stop thinking, but Harry couldn't do that. Thinking was what had kept him alive up to this point, he was unlikely to stop. Luna cocked her head to the side as she realized there was a solution to the problem, but it would require that both of them take a step forward. She made her decision and stood, taking Harry's hand in her own and leading him out the Ravenclaw portrait hole and to a small broom closet she knew about on the seventh floor, just across from a tapestry of a strange wizard trying to teach trolls ballet.

She had a hard time finding it, having to walk up and down the corridor several times, but then she found the door she was looking for. She opened the door and directed Harry into it before following him.

He looked very confused; Luna hadn't uttered a word up to this point since she grabbed his hand. He opened his mouth to, probably to ask something like what or why, but that was the kind of thing Luna was trying to eliminate here. Before sound could leave him, she put a finger across his lips. He seemed to get that this was her show, and his jaws snapped shut.

Luna moved her finger down his well-built chin, and then traced his jawline up to his ear slowly, her finger barely brushing his skin, maintaining only the lightest contact. When her hand reached the point where his jaw began to curve up, Harry had closed his eyes and just seemed to be leaning into her touch. That touch moved up behind the ear and spread its fingers into untamable black hair.

When she reached his hair, Luna brought her other hand up and also ran it through the other teen's hair, just luxuriating in the feel of him for a moment. Harry was no less luxuriating in the contact; a small contented sigh escaped his lips. Luna paused for an instant, thinking to herself _Success!_

The instant of pause was enough to make Harry open his eyes, and when they opened, Luna applied pressure to his head and brought it to her own. It started with a kiss. Chaste enough, much like the very limit they had explored to up to this point.

Luna wanted more for this moment though.

It deepened. They didn't stop to come up for air for a solid minute. When they broke, Harry took a hand that had been hanging uselessly at his side and brushed am errant lock of hair from his forehead, the questions of what and why back on his lips. She couldn't have that now, could she?

Before he could say anything, she took his hands and positioned them at her lower back in a kind of hug, and went back in. This time at the gentle insistence of hers, Harry's tongue came into play.

It was hot, it was messy, and it was filled with teenage lust and inexperience. If either of them had to describe it in a word, they would have said it was perfect. Their first snog.

Of their own volition his hands moved. One went to her upper back and the other to her lower, squeezing her against him, maximizing the contact between their bodies. Her hands moved back to his hair, putting more force into the contact between their lips. Truly, it complicated the kissing process and maybe wasn't the best choice, but both interpreted it in the spirit it was intended. It only increased the passion and feeling in the moment.

An eternity passed in the minute they held onto their kiss before they realized that breaking for air was a necessity.

When they broke finally, Harry just squeezed her closer. Drinking in the feeling of the moment, he pressed her against himself. Her hands moved from his hair down to his back where she did her own squeezing.

Harry slowly moved his head and pressed a kiss against her forehead, where she was cuddling into his chest. In the back of both of their minds the Lady of the Castle hummed happily for the pair.

Luna ran her hands up and down Harry's back, squeezing and feeling all of his muscles. She repeated her earlier thought when she realized that there wasn't an ounce of tension in her Harry. They would get through this.

* * *

Before either truly knew it, June twenty-fourth was upon them. The final task of the god-forsaken tournament had turned out to be them having to traverse a maze to find the winner's cup.

Harry had gathered his friends in his lab the week before the task, and showed them how foolish the whole thing was. The marauder's map, which covered the grounds out to the limit of the castle' wards, showed clearly every twist and turn of the hedge maze. They all had a good laugh, the twins especially, when they saw the entire course laid out in black and white before them.

Fred, George, and Neville had also all laughed when they heard Harry's plan for the task. One of the curious things about the tournament was that everything not specifically disallowed was, in fact, permitted. Harry was just going to summon his broom and fly over their idiotic maze to the cup, then sit down and wait to congratulate the first real champion to come by.

Harry had never wanted anything to do with the triwizard fiasco from the start, and he'd be damned if he started caring about its outcome now.

The classes on the day of the final task were cancelled, theoretically the parents of each of the champions were supposed to be there to support their child. Harry had heard all of this from Bagman's perpetually moving mouth, and so had chosen to just avoid the day entirely. In the morning he had called Dobby to bring him food in his lab, and through the use of enchanted notes had let all of his friends know where he would be.

The Lady Hogwarts informed Harry that the Weasley matron had shown up for his as a surrogate family; Harry rejected her and her curiously oppressive brand of love choosing instead to just remain in his lab. He spent the day playing exploding snap with his brothers and his god-brother, as well as cuddling with Luna.

As darkness fell, Harry left the castle with his friends, avoiding the now angry Mrs. Weasley through the use of a strong notice-me-not. They moved into the stands, Luna after a deep parting kiss, and Harry got in line in front of the maze with the other champions.

Large globes of bluish-white light hung around the tops of the twenty foot hedges that covered the quidditch pitch. The already elevated stands for the pitch's normal use were now at a perfect height and orientation to see what was going on inside the maze.

Harry's thirty-one points put him at the last spot to begin the task. Cedric was in first place overall, and would enter the maze a full ten minutes before Harry would be allowed to start. Like everything else, Harry's response to this part of the tournament was a yawn and an unspoken thought about when he would be allowed to go back to his lab.

Bagman blathered on for about ten minutes, thanking sponsors of the tournament and generally posturing in the name of the British ministry of magic. Harry didn't even pretend to pay attention. Almost all of his awareness was exploring the magic of the maze and surrounding the field.

For the last task Harry had decided to actually wear and use the 'wand holders' he had made, the shield specific one on his left arm and his general enhancement on his right. All of his training had brought him to and beyond the threshold to true sorcery. The power suppressors he had taken off to put on his bracers had been so strong that Harry privately suspected they would have turned even wizards of Dumbledore's potential into squibs.

What this meant was that Harry could do so much with so little magical power that his senses unaided could pick out specific magical signatures among the hundreds of watching students, ministry officials, and foreign dignitaries.

With the gauntlet that harry had spent months crafting to enhance his own power in every way, Harry felt stronger than he had ever before. He felt stronger than he had any right to. Harry honestly believed he might be able to take his favorite horntail in a straight-up fight at this level.

The task started while he was feeling out the power surrounding Moody. The small fraction of his mind he had relegated to paying attention to the task reported that it was almost his turn to head in when Harry finally realized that Moody was under a control spell of some kind. Harry came close to breaking it before he found the same kind of spell influence over about eighty percent of the attending ministry personnel. The foreigners were free of it, which led Harry to believe it was probably the influence of some kind of ministry oath.

The magic felt… aggressive. Angry even. Harry gave a small shudder as he thought that just a year ago he was considering being an auror. If this kind of spell work was what the ministry put its people through, Harry was gladder than ever that there was literally a beachfront property in Australia with his name on it.

His name was called out to the yelling and gasping crowd, and he took a few steps forward towards the maze. He considered summoning his broom, but he had been experimenting with conjuring already enchanted objects and thought that would be a more fun and be a better show for the crowd.

Harry held his right hand out at waist level and willed a firebolt to appear in his hand. Under half-suppressed power it took him a moment to conjure a small enchanted object (Dobby had been ecstatic over his socks that depicted the frying of eggs and dusting of library shelves), with his power at full and enhanced by his lovingly crafted bracer, the broom appeared in his hand almost before he willed it.

Harry mounted lazily and with a distinct wink in the direction of the twins and kiss blown to Luna, he took to a low orbit of the field. Bagman looked like he was going to wet himself in excitement, which made Harry grin as he had no intention of landing at the trophy any time soon.

He watched Krum sneak up behind Fleur, and shoot a very dark pain curse at her unsuspecting back. She cried out and fell into a fetal position before Krum negligently stunned her. He had a manic smile on his face.

Harry's eyes scrunched as he felt out the surly Bulgarian. Krum had the same angry magic around him that Moody did. Something about it tickled at the back of Harry's mind, but it eluded him.

Krum continued on until he reached what looked from the air like a sphinx, which promptly batted him about the head so hard he flew an even twenty feet before landing and distinctly not moving.

He soon disappeared, only to reappear in front of Harry's favorite medi-witch. Fleur too had vanished soon after being stunned only to re-appear by the medical tent. An incredibly irate Alain Delacour could be seen yelling at a taller and wider version of Krum that stood next to his apparent son's crumpled form.

Refocusing, Harry soon found Cedric who was a single wall from the center of the maze and victory. If not for the guy's rampant and apparently unnoticed hypocrisy (honestly, Harry thought, a cheating Hufflepuff with an utter bitch like Chang for a girl friend? If the guy wasn't a complete duffer, Harry would have suspected him of being actively evil) Harry would have been rooting for him.

As the tall, dark, and handsome teen got closer and closer to the break in the wall that led to success, he lost his caution to a greater and greater extent. It was a damn shame, in Harry's opinion, for a half-grown acromantula was sneaking up on him. As the guy finally saw his objective, the massive spider jumped on him from behind, sinking its poisonous mandibles into Cedric's upper thigh.

He soon disappeared as well, reappearing on a bed that could only be described as an intensive care unit.

Harry sighed. It figures he would win by accident.

Harry landed at the start of the maze, staunchly refusing to go inside and actually get the trophy. If he was going to win the tournament that he didn't want to enter, he was going to make someone else do work for it. It was petty, but felt kind of good to Harry.

Before long, Barty Crouch emerged from the maze, cup in hand. Moody walked up next to Harry and laid an arm on his shoulder.

"You may not have actually tried, but you still won, boy. Not a half bad showing either. You probably could have won on your own merit if you had tried," came the gravelly voice of the retired auror turned DADA professor.

Moody kept his gnarled hand on Harry's shoulder as Crouch hurriedly walked over and made to hand the cup to Harry. He was getting weird magical vibes from the cup, and even weirder vibes from Crouch. Harry had never had a chance to use his enhanced magical senses on the aged former head of the DMLE, but it felt like he was under a massive illusion, but it was more than that, it was deeper. He was still trying to pinpoint what it was that felt off, as he absentmindedly reached out to grab the cup from Crouch's outstretched arm. The second he made contact with the metal of the cup, he felt a somewhat familiar pulling sensation from behind his navel and cursed deeply.

This was what Luna had warned him about. Now he was heading arse over teakettle into a trap. Bugger.

* * *

Harry rejoined the prime material plane from the subspace pocket used by portkey travel moving at a solid twenty kilometers per hour diagonally towards the ground and forward from the orientation he had been in when the travel commenced. He tumbled over himself, completing three full revolutions, before he hit something rigid that left him dazed.

He shook his head, trying to overcome the cobwebs that seemed to be infesting it. Dark orange spell bolts flew at him from his three o'clock, Harry threw up one of his drastically overpowered shields as he desperately tried to regain his footing.

The bolts impacted the shield, and Harry thought he was safe. He felt an extreme pressure on his shield for a moment, then the power of the bolts wouldn't be denied any further and Harry received two different cruciatus bursts.

Harry, for all of his immense magical ability and power, was falling victim to the classic blunder of the young hero. Harry was overconfident. Fighting a basilisk was not the same as going spell for spell against a trained and pissed off war-wizard. Despite his dueling practice with Flitwick, there wasn't anything that could truly mimic a battlefield except a battlefield. The map was not the territory.

So when he found himself hitting what appeared to him to be a tombstone at high velocity after being trapped by a portkey, he wasn't ready. When he saw spell fire and put up a strong shield, he forgot to identify an unforgivable first, then shield second. When he was hit by two separate _crucio_s from the homunculus of the most powerful dark wizard for over a century, he did what nearly everyone does after their first exposure to a curse designed solely to light up every nerve in one's body like an Odin-forsaken Christmas tree, he passed out.

"Moody! Stun him again and bind him!" the man who was apparently Bartemius Crouch Senior called out.

The old scared wizard mechanically complied, and after a further order, brought the unconscious body of Harry Potter near a massive cauldron placed in the middle of the graveyard they had portkeyed into.

A hissing voice called out to Crouch and the fat shivering form of Peter Pettigrew, "Begin the ritual before the boy wakes. I tire of this form, and there is no need to risk his waking."

Below its short and pained breath the voice continued, "I felt the strength of his shield even in this depleted form. If he wakes, I may not be able to kill him."

Moody was stunned, and had the triwizard cup tossed on top of him. He disappeared with Nary a single pop, only to reappear in the midst of a terrified crowd back at Hogwarts.

Wormtail began pouring potion after potion inside the cauldron, and after about fifteen minutes of effort had filled the vessel nearly to its top. While he had been working, Crouch Sr.'s body had morphed and changed. It looked nearly twenty years younger, and clearly different. The man now standing before Voldemort was clearly the son of the form that had been in the same position a few minutes prior. The biggest change was in the eyes of the new man. They now burned from the inside with a psychotic flame.

The zealot's voice rang out over the graveyard as Wormtail slipped the vessel for the Dark Lord's spirit into the cauldron, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

A grave near the cauldron cracked open, and a femur flew sedately over and into the hideous brew. The sense of magical energy in the area increased.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master."

The zealot with the manic gleam in his eye hurriedly cut off his own arm with a whispered _diffindo_. The arm made a sickening squelch as it fell into the mix. The air now actively gave off spontaneous sparks. The magic was so thick in the air that it was difficult for the two men around the cauldron to breathe.

"Blood of the enemy," as the words left the zealot's mouth a deep rumbling began at the edges of his awareness, "Forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

The zealot used his remaining arm to stab the unmoving Potter's form in the arm. Mercifully he missed all significant arteries, but he gave the knife a vicious twist as he removed it, ensuring the blade was coated in Harry's blood.

He raised the blade over the cauldron, and a single drop of the unconscious boy's life essence fell into the potion mix.

Time stood still.

The process Tom Riddle was using on this dark night to regain his physical form was an ancient dark ritual, stolen from the Egyptians. Like every ritual, it represented a perfect crystallization of intent. It took from the life force of the family line, of the dedicated servant, and most importantly, of the true foe of the one to be resurrected.

The ritual had a large number of qualifications on these things. The father had to have been killed by the son. The servant had to have spent more than six lunar cycles doing the exact bidding of the one to be resurrected. The foe had to spend the same six lunar cycles under constant threat, usually that meant being in a full state of war with the one to be resurrected, but other methods of threat were permissible as long as it was constant and consuming.

Tom Riddle, Voldemort, had killed his father shortly after his sixth year at Hogwarts. Bartemius Crouch Jr., the zealot, had care for his master and set up every event in the tournament to be a challenge and threat to Harry. Harry had been entered via magical contract into the tournament.

Hadn't he?

This final qualification was the last mistake Thomas Marvolo Riddle would ever make in this reality. When Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire on the night of Samhain, the Goblet had sent out a tendril of its own magic to make the connection to the boy. It sent out a tendril of magic to bind him to the competition. Harry, unlike over two thousands previous year's worth of competitors, had fought off the tendril. It had never connected to his magic. He had not been bound.

Ritual magic was a strange form of magic. Most set magic, like runes or incantations, had massive blowback if performed incorrectly. Runes tended to explode violently when powered up. Incantation based spells at low power tended to either reflect on the caster or just fizzle, and at high power levels acted a lot like runes.

Ritual magic was a far more rigid crystallization of intent. More set and rigid than even runic magic. So when a ritual goes off the rails, the consequences are bad.

As Harry's blood completed the ritual, his not being bound to the tournament came into effect. Sur he had been in a little danger from time to time, but as far as the ritual was concerned Harry had spent the requisite time on a beach sipping mai-tais.

As the drop of blood hit the potion's surface, a massive hole to the outer darkness was ripped into reality at the site of the ritual in the graveyard. The seven hundred seventy-seven gods of madness, whose city fell from the sky to sleep beneath the waves, reached out to Earth, and took for themselves the being known as Voldemort.

Across the country a number of holes ripped open. In the graveyard itself, a minor daemon stalked from the hole in the world out into the night, returning with the struggling form of a massive snake it its unholy jaws. A shack not far from the ritual site was claimed by the beings of madness. Number twelve Grimmauld place was visited, and strangely only a locket was taken from the premises. A diadem disappeared in a flash of darkness so profound to see it would make even the strongest wizard blind for the rest of his days. Gringotts' wards were ripped asunder as a vault was taken in its entirety from Goblin territory into the black space between worlds. Yog-Sothoth, the Lurker at the Threshold itself, reached through the wound in the heart of the world and touched the head of Harry Potter, drawing out the hidden essence of Voldemort.

As the portal to the outer-darkness closed, all across the world almost four hundred wizards and witches (to his credit, ideologically speaking, nearly eighty percent were actually purebloods) who were marked followers of Voldemort died. Their dark marks pledged each of their lives and magics to the life of their master. As he violated the constraints of one of the darkest rituals known to wizard kind and was taken, so too were the lives and collective magics of his followers taken.

When the portal closed, the only thing remaining where the graveyard had been was a preternatural darkness, and a half-sphere taken out of the earth roughly 100 meters in diameter, with the unconscious body of Harry James Potter resting at the bottom.

* * *

Two days passed. Britain was in utter chaos. Half of the society's upper echelon had dropped dead, including the senior undersecretary to the minister of magic. Nearly the entire ministry, with the exception of the Department of Mysteries, came out from under imperius curses that no one had ever noticed. The entire staff of the Daily Prophet, right down to their janitors, had dropped dead. The only publication of any significance that wasn't at least decimated by whatever had happened was the Quibbler, and its coverage included announcements of an imminent relocation down to Oz of all places.

Two full days passed without a sign of the Boy-who-lived, kidnapped and thought dead. Then, on the morning of the twenty-seventh, in the middle of breakfast, the door in the entrance hall opened to admit a pale and wounded fourteen year old.

The great hall fell silent as the massive doors creaked open. The avatar of the Lady was supporting most of the weight of Harry as he made a dozen pained steps into the hall before stopping and croaking out, "Can I get my prize now?", before losing his battle with unconsciousness.

* * *

(A/N):Thus ends the tale of The Unwilling Participant. This was as far as I had initially wanted to go. My thanks go to my good friends Elizabeth and Emily, who looked through the story for me before I went to put it online.

I could go farther with it if enough of you want. I deliberately left the end of it open, because I think the story is more interesting when you can imagine how it works out in the end on your own. If you want more, send a review or message. If I get around two dozen, I'll write more.

(A/N 2): I couple people have pointed out that the end feel rushed here. And they aren't wrong. I've been dying to get to another HP Fic that I've had running around my head for a month now, and I had the final confrontation with voldy written almost since I started. In a couple months I'll put out a new fic about a Harry Potter who makes fate his bitch instead of the other way around. When I finish that, I'll come back to this and polish up the ending, and probably (due to a lack of customer satisfaction) add in an epilogue of sorts. Anyway...

(A/N 3): Jeez you guys are a bunch of complainers! Insert grin here. I will definitely be writing a few extra chapters and tuning up the ending. As soon as I hit third year in the project I'm working on right now, I'll come back and finish this story to all of your satisfactions. Thank you for your thoughts and reviews, they give me warm fuzzy feelings.

(A/N 4): Sweet fancy Moses, you guys! I thought the third note covered it, but in case it didn't I'll say it again. I'm coming back here and adding more. I promise. I almost have a life in addition to a job and taking classes. I'll get to it in a few months, please bear with me till then.

Cheers!

ManMadeOfLasers


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